Forever Yours
by Ezio Bonnefoy
Summary: Matthew Williams is at the edge of depression. Not believing life holds any joy he meets Francis, a strange man with an undying love for people. Not being able to forget this Frenchman, Matthew can't help but to grow closer to him, unaware of the dark past Francis is contently running from. (20-25 chapters) WARNING: Yaoi, Vulgar language, Prostitution, Indications of rape, Crime
1. Chapter 1

**Forever yours**

_By: Ezio Bonnefoy_

The sparkling chandeliers splattered dim light, illuminating the lust filled carpet floors and old wallpaper. Dirty mirrors, both lipstick and fingerprints smeared on their cracked glass, where placed throughout the dressing room.

Francis where looking through one of them. His sight was slightly blurred. Eyes red and drained to the point of exhaustion from the lack of sleep. Warmth from light bulbs in front of him made his face burn, as the eyes weren't enough. He observed the split reflecion. His hair had grown, reaching his shoulders. That was good, he'd become more popular since he could wear a ponytail. It added a kind of sexiness to his character. Stretching his neck he felt across his face. A shaving was needed. Expecting to be clean at work the constant growing stubble across his jaw made the task difficult to fulfill. They liked clean boys Gilbert, his boss, said. And more customers was what the Frenchman needed. Filthy and desperate _costumers_. It was a shame calling them that after what they'd done to some of the sisters at the strip club.

Francis called them sisters, the girls working at the club. And the sisters called him big brother France in return. France was a nickname given to him because of his nationality and rough speech, it had become his tag. There where no real names underground during working hours. Only labels, making the sisters and him into products of pleasure and satisfaction.

Heels clicked, chit chat and laughter surrounded him. Over it music was pounding. It was just another night at the _Moulin Rouge, _as their stuck up boss Gilbert called it. Placed underground and in secrecy it wasn't as fancy as it sounded. Some of the sisters called it _hell hole _or_ devils den_. But all of them knew this was one of the few places they all could call home. It seems strange to outsiders, but Francis knew the pains the girls went through. Being forced to wear uncomfortable and revealing outfits, dancing in front of _customers _and shaming their mothers_, _weren't the only thing exotic dancers shared.

Behind the flashing lights of the catwalk, poles and pounding music of the speakers, braiding hair and caching up with a friendly faces was quite common. They took care of each other because to some of them, this was as close to a family they had. Placed together under the same roof night after night they built trust, friendship and love. Just like any other dysfunctional family would. Therefor making the _hell hole _into a _home_.

It could be described as peaceful in the dressing room with it's tranquilizing atmosphere. It had the stench of sweat, smoke and a scent of cheap perfume and hairspray. The mixture of these didn't leave a good taste in the mouth, but it was still bearable. The space was filled with gorgeous young women. All of them lightly dressed in provoking underwear, laughing and fixing their makeup. The best part, according to Francis, was the beauty they all possessed. Big, small, slender, curvy, short, tall: it didn't matter. Equally stunning they entranced him with their looks constantly, not letting his eyes rest on anything but their flawless bodies.

"France? Could you help me?" A girl needed her bra refit. Francis gladly rose from his seat and adjusted the straps and lace around the breast holder. "Thank you!" She smiled kindly and and stretched out her shoulders.

He was however not attracted to these women. His tenderness and devotion for the sisters where consistently as an observer. In his strange fascination he wanted to gaze upon them, nothing more. Letting his eyes swill over their curves and edges. Granting himself to see the beauty of their figures. Seeing silky hair, heavy coated lashes, flushed cheeks, jaw lines, collar bones, breasts, belly buttons, thighs, bottoms, legs and much more, but not allowing him to touch any of it. He had a faint fear of spoiling it it if he would.

But sometimes he would allow himself to dress them, fixing their hair and makeup. Francis was good at that. He wanted them to feel as beautiful as he thought they where. Always telling them that people will stare and drop their jaws when they walk out of the dressing room. Francis did however not only adore their bodies, but their personalities. He belied that beauty came from within. And as any brother would do, he'd protect them if anyone said otherwise.

The calmness in the dressing room was often disturbed when men rushed inside and yelling things like: _whore_ and _slut_. It was often shouted throughout the building. It was okay until _customers_ went to their sanctuary. Then it became a problem. The dressing room was a safe place, it was _home_, the rest of the club was _work_. _Customers_ where not, under ant circumstances allowed in there.

However, today the peace was disturbed by something entirely different.

"Belarus!" A girl cried out in fear as Gilbert carried a pale dancer with blue lips through the dressing room door. Francis reacted as soon as she saw the limp frame of her.

"She isn't breathing!" Gilbert said with a distressed face, carrying her passed Francis.

"Lay her down! Girls out!" Francis ordered, tying his hair back and walking next to his boss. Panic started to spread as he laid her down in the leather futon in the corner of the room. Through the door came another girl, rushing up to Gilbert, bombing him with questions.

"I don't know what happened! Calm down!" Gilbert held the girls shoulders and kept her back as Francis sat down and examined the girl.

He recognized her. She'd arrived just a few weeks ago. _Belarus,_a girl also given her nickname from her nationality. Acrobat, in good shape, a killing aura, but no known illnesses. "Was she hit?" He said with a french accent.

"I told you, _I don't know_!" Gilbert still held the other girl away from Francis so he could do his job without being disturbed. He felt the back of her head, no sighs of her getting a bottle smashed. Bending down his head he listened. He could feel her breath. She was breathing, but faintly. He fiddle with her lacing. _Merde_. He couldn't get the corsets front knot opened. Time was running out.

"Give me your knife, Gilbert."

"_Was_?"

"Now!" Francis raised his hand, staring the German straight in the eye. The army knife was passed between them and Francis turned to Belarus again.

"What are you doing?!" The girl screamed behind Gilbert as Francis flung the blade up, placing it just above Belarus chest. Without hesitation he drug it along the lacing, cutting the silk fabric and split the corset open. A vast inhale followed by coughing woke the girl and made her conscious again.

Gilbert let out a sigh of relief, combing his silvery white hair back with his fingers. Afraid and confused Belarus tried to sit up only to be pushed down by Francis back into the futon.

"Lay down. I'll get you something to wear. Deedee get her some water will you?" The girl with the enormous chest nodded and rushed out.

"Gilbert you _imbécile _!" He raised from the floor, gesticulating with his arms and hands in frustration. Dark blue eyes met red as Francis stare got hostel towards the Germans. "Didn't I tell you not to bind the corsets so fucking tight?!" He passed Gilbert. Marching furiously in his dress shoes.

"Hey! She said it was fine-"

"Don't give me that shit again Gilbert! You could have killed her!" Francis faced him again. The albino bit his tongue, shamefully looking away.

"Here." Francis sighed and held out the knife. Without making eye contact Gilbert snatched it from him, staring the floor. "Do you have a spare shirt?" The words had strong R's that rolled back in Francis mouth.

"No, sorry." Gilbert straighten his back and looked up at Francis.

"Fine." The Frenchman started unbuttoning his own white shirt.

"You need to fix a new pair of corsets. I cut one open yesterday too." He passed Gilbert again, this time only with determent steps.

"_Ja_. I'll do that." Gilbert turned to Francis who was giving his shirt to Belarus.

"Here you go. Cover yourself up." He said smiling calmly, focusing at the girls eyes. She was uncomfortable as it was and didn't need a mans eyes over her naked torso.

"Francis." Gilbert had hesitated before calling him.

"Hmm?" The French looked back. His eyes where not glued to the girl as Francis first thought they would. Gilbert's eyes where fixed on him.

"You aren't looking too good." Francis felt his heart sink. He turned his head towards one of the dirty mirrors. Shit, he had forgot about it. His torso was striped with scarlet burns. Bruises crawled along his left ribcage and shoulder, darkening his skin to shades of blue and green. The strong light made them stand out to Francis otherwise slightly tanned skin.

"It's...fine Gilbert." He turned his head. "Don't worry about me." Francis gave him a faint smile hoping it would calm his friend. The result was the opposite. Gilbert covered his mouth, making a face of distress. His eyes met Francis.

"Is this a regular?"

"_Que?_ No, no Gilbert-"

"Francis I know you need the money but you can't take on any asshole you find!" Gilbert said seriously in a deep tone.

Francis words stuck in his throat, not allowing him to speak up. Being a man in this kind of business made it hard to find _customers _sense they where mostly men. He'd end up with pigs and perverts of all kinds. Francis knew desperate times called for desperate measures, but Gilbert was right. He took a deep breath.

"I know." Francis said eventually, turning his head away. "Check on the girls outside." Gilbert crossed his arms. He wanted something more out of his friend then that.

"Please." Gilbert sighed and shook his head.

"Take the night off." He ordered before walking out of the dressing room.

Francis combed his fingers through his hair, untying his low ponytail. Shit. He'd forgot that they where there. He cursed the damn psycho who left the marks on him. At least they didn't hurt as much now. It had been a couple of days sense the incidence. Francis glanced back at the mirror again. It sure as hell was a mistake accepting the vulgar offer, but he needed the money. He looked like a weird dalmatian mixed with a tiger. He was in trouble now that Gilbert knew. He would watch him like a hawk.

A pair of slender arms wrapped around his waist. They where concealed by an oversized white shirt. It was Belarus, or her real name was Natalia Arlovskaya, but not many knew that.

"Are you feeling better Natalia?" Francis asked, putting his hands in his pockets. Small hands felt his bruised skin along with dark long nails. The girl looked at Francis through the mirror as her she brushed the old wounds. She seemed almost fascinated.

"Is it a regular?" Natalia had a rough accent that didn't mach her soft voice. Francis just frowned and gave her a smirk. She brushed softly over his mussels til she reached his rib cage.

"You should lay down and rest." Her dark blue eyes went cold as she pressed a dark spot on Francis chest making him let out a small cry.

"So should you Francis." He took her hands of him and turned towards her.

"Thank you." She said before Francis had the chance to scold her. He simply smiled, but she didn't back. Francis let his eyes wander down. Seeing her in his shirt was kind of amusing. It framed her differently. Tight around the chest and hips, loose along the sleeves and shoulder. Over it her hair fell, all the way past her waist. It gave her a playful look despite her deadly aura.

"No problem." He answered calmly, fixing her collar.

"Are you staring at my boobs?" Her words cut like a knife through the air.

"_Oui_, I'm looking, but not only your breasts Natalia." Francis said without shame. He met her big eyes.

"So?" She seemed to stare right through him.

"So? _So_ what?" Francis felt her tense atmosphere.

"Is it a regular?" Now the words cut through him. Making his stomach turn. Francis frowned, turning his uncomfortable feeling into anger.

"It doesn't matter." He muttered, rolling the R. He left her side, walking towards his coat. He didn't want to stay at this place any longer.

"Tell Gilbert I went home. Don't wreck my shirt." He said bitterly, buttoning the coat over his bare chest.

"Francis."

"What?!" He turned to Natalia who rested one of her arms over the other, looking blankly at him.

"Take care." The words cut through him yet again, making him regret his outburst. He tied his blue scarf before answering her calmly.

"Yea. You too Natalia"

-x-

The night air was cool and moist. A trembling chill shook Francis. It was surprisingly cold without the shirt. Natalia needed it more then him though. Leafs danced in front of his feet as he crossed the street, it shimmering from the recent rain. The old dress shoes where barely capable of keeping is feet dry in this weather. Wind blew in his ears and cars passed with glistering lights.

Gilbert that stupid fuck. Always getting the girls in trouble. He as a boss doesn't know how it was on the floor as Francis did. Poor Natalia.

_Is this a regular? _

Gilbert's words had carved their way into Francis chest. Why did I have to say that? The concern Gilbert gave him was too much. The Frenchman knew he had a risky job. He had things under control, but just that time he didn't. Francis clenched his fists. As long as Gilbert didn't have to worry. The German had been a good friend of Francis' for a long time. He was the first to show him sympathy since he had moved to America. Them both born in Europe made them connect quiet easily. Not because Germany and France was so much alike, but rather them sharing love for a country far away.

Gilbert had chased the American dream of being a superstar. Sadly thought his _awesomeness, _as he called it, didn't quiet cut it. He had then made his way in to other kinds of show business until he ended up buying the old salon, naming it _The Moulin Rouge _after a famous whore house in a movie that he saw when he still lived in Germany with his brother.

Francis sighed. And now this man was worried about his French whore friend. Shit. He remembers the man who he met a few days ago. That fucking creep. Francis cursed the _Mr. Smith_ as he called himself. Damn Psycho. Francis could understand people being into strange stuff but a freaking sadist. He knew sex was always a mixture between pleasure and pain but those burns weren't necessary. Being a man of that kind of job he could almost manege anything, but he was not into that shit.

Men like _Mr. Smith_ made Francis furious. Using people like that for such a shameful desire, to hurt other people like that. Francis could remember numerous times when he had to protect his sisters from these kind of _customers_. It was a shame calling them that, but that's what they were unfortunately.

Blood pumped through his veins, he was getting way to worked up on this. He needed a smoke. Hunting in his right coat pocket heels clicked as he turned around a corner. In between the street lights of the otherwise empty street Francis noticed something strange. There was a young a man standing. Warming his hands next to the buss stop.

The Frenchman fished up a cigarette from the box, still watching the man. Walking in the detection of him Francis examined his outfit. A beige jacket with a fluffy hood, dark trousers with a pair of winter boots. He didn't look broke, so why was he in this part of town? Only drunks and beggars roamed these streets. As Francis got closer he noticed an uneasiness around him. Looking around, checking the time, adjusting his feet and stance. He was nervous. No wonder, he wasn't suppose to be here.

For a brief second he turned his face towards Francis. Blonde hair framed the pale face and a pair of glasses reflected the street lights around him. Seeing Francis he quickly turned his face away. This boy was easy pray. Seriously, what was he thinking, being out in the middle of the night on the shabbiest streets of New York? Francis almost felt an urge to tell this guy how utterly stupid he was, but that thought disappeared as soon as he saw his eyes.

He was afraid. Well, he did have the right to be scared on these streets at night. Francis felt his protective brother like feelings come to him. He couldn't just leave him there alone with a clear conscience. Besides, he needed something to get _Mr. Smith _of his mind.

Walking up to him he placed the cigarette in his mouth.

"Excuse me. Do you have a light?" Francis said and gave him a warm smile.

_Merde: Damn it_

_Was:What_

_Imbécile: Idiot_

_Ja: Yes_

_Que: What_

_Oui:Yes_


	2. Chapter 2

**Forever Yours**

_By: Ezio Bonnefoy_

The sky was dark. No stars where out tonight. Only the blurred silhouette of a moon lit up the autumn sky. Under it a shy Canadian boy was strutting the streets of a busy New York. His hands where in his pockets and his face in the wind. Anger and irritation pumped in his veins as he crossed the street.

"Damn Alfred..." He muttered for himself. The swelling feeling of fury filled him, from the chest out to his nearly frozen fingertips. He started to walk faster hoping the unpleasant feeling would fume out of him. Matthew was awfully upset. His stupid American brother had humiliated him yet again. Spitting out something vulgar without knowing the affect it had on his brother. Of course, his father Arthur had thought nothing of it until Matthew stormed out of the small apartment complex with the words: "I'm going for a walk!" He was suppose to yell: "I hate you!" But couldn't manage to say it. It was a little too much, he wasn't that angry. In fact he just needed to be alone for a while. Somewhere alone without _the hero, _as Matthews brother called himself. Kicking an old beercan, Matthew got rid of some of his frustration. He didn't hate Alfred, he just was too much sometimes.

Matthew stopped for a second and viewed his surroundings. He'd been walking for 40 minutes straight without any destination in mind. Strutting around left and right as he pleased. Now he scanned the streets and houses that where around him. Matthew quickly forgot his irritating brother when he realized that he had no idea where he was. He quickly pulled out his phone. No network, the GPS wasn't going to work. Crap. He started walking again, scanning the area. A sign was placed at the end of the street saying: Oxenstierna st. Both surprised and terrified by the name Matthew spun around. Was this even America? He didn't know. A foreign name and a foreign place. He could be halfway to China for all he knew. Following the empty street he realized there where no taxis around either. Double crap. How was he suppose to come home now?

The houses around him seemed larger now. The streetlights flickered just like in a horror film. Oh God. Matthew walked faster. He didn't know where, just somewhere away from here. The wind was howling, or was it a stray cat? Paranoia got its grip on Matthew, making him see things in the corner of his eyes. He didn't admit it, and he properly never would, but he was afraid of the dark. Not the darkness itself, but the unknown that lied beneath it. With rapid breath and heart stuck in his throat he finally saw redemption. A bus stop. Almost running to the savior of cold steel he felt hope again. Matthew adjusted his glasses and red the bus schedule. It would be there soon, he'd just have to wait until it arrived.

"Hallelujah." He sighed and leaned against the post. A wind shook him and a few leaves passed by. Damn, it was cold. He hadn't put on his mittens before he left home. _Home_. Matthew felt bitter only thinking about it. His long walk had made him forget his accusal life a bit. It was all so _boring. _Wake up, go to school, get picked on by bullies, attend class, eat lunch, more classes, go home, get picked on by Alfred, eat dinner, study, sleep. It all went in a sort of loop. Matthew had tried not putting so much thought of it, but it made him sick. Why would anyone want to live like this? The truth was, he didn't want to go home at all. He could just keep walking until he dropped dead.

A car raced by Matthew in a furious speed, taking him back to the present, to the creepy and eery street he was standing on. He checked the time, adjusting his posture. It felt as if it went slower, almost wanting him to get attacked on the street. He sighed. It's just an illusion.

Suddenly he heard footsteps. Matthew turned his head only to snap it back again. For 20 minutes he hadn't met a soul and now, on the darkest and most frightening place he had been on all night, there was a man. A man walking _towards_ him. But it was okay, as long as he played it cool. There was nothing to worry about. The possible-murderer-rapist-serial-killer-gang member-thief was just going to pass by, then the bus would come and take Matthew home. There was nothing to fear. Nothing to be afraid of.

Well, it was until the possible-murderer-rapist-serial-killer-gang member-thief walked up to him.

"Excuse me. Do you have a light?" Prepared to fall on his knees and beg for his life, giving his money and watch to this stranger, Matthew instead just simply responded the strange question with a confused look. The man, or the possible-murderer-rapist-serial-killer-gang member-thief, had a cigarette stuck between his teeth. Matthew's brain processed the information once again before he answers the man.

"Um...N-No sorry." Matthew turned his head to the street again. He exhaled. Relived by the question he'd been asked. The man wasn't going to kill him and steal all his belongings. He only wanted to smoke, Jesus Christ. This was to much for Matthews weak heart. He had feared for his life a second ago.

"Oh. Well, you don't look like someone who smokes." The man sounded a bit disappointed. Matthew felt calmer again. Now he'd just leave. That tranquil feeling didn't last long though as the stranger next to him didn't walk away. Instead he pulled up a lighter from his own pocket and lit his cigarette. Hearing the click and flame Matthew turned his head. Dazzled he blinked a few times, staring at the glowing end of the nicotine filled stick.

"May I ask, if you did have a lighter, why'd you ask me for one?" Crap. Matthew regretted his question. He was afraid of what answer he would get. Thoughts of all the horror films he had been forced to watch together with Alfred popped up in his head. This is the part where the bad guy reveal himself and tells the innocent victim their going to be kidnapped because he didn't have a lighter or something. Preparing for his death sentence Matthew looked into his killers eyes.

"Excuse for a conversation." He answered flatly. Matthew blinked yet again. What the hell? Was this some kind of joke? The stranger smiled and continued.

"Well, now that I got your attention we might as well chat a little, _non_?" Matthew was still baffled. _Excuse for conversation? Might as well chat?_ This guy was nuts. Matthew sighed and turned his head back, not answering him. He felt the strangers eyes on him. Scanning him. Was he looking for something to steal?

"You're not from around here, are you boy?" Matthew noticed his accent. He kind of sounded like his Irish uncle. His speech wasn't slurred like the drunks, but he rolled the R's way back. And he didn't pronouns the H as well. Now Matthew processed what the man actually said. Boy? What did he mean by _boy? _He was a gown man not a boy!

"I-I was about to say the same t-thing to _you_, France is it?" The man frowned with the stick in his mouth. That's what you get! Matthew felt like he had the situation under control, just asking him a question in return. Yea, he was cool alright. Cool as the Canadian snow. _Cool._ He kind of forgot the person next to him for a few seconds until he opened his mouth again.

"Ah! France...Yes, France. Paris actually." Matthew noticed a hesitance in his answer. Why didn't he just say yes? Wait, was he an illegal immigrant? Matthew turned to him to see what he looked like. Almost as if he could see if he was illegal or not. The man breathed out a cloud of smoke in front of him. He had blonde hair, reaching his shoulders and what appeared to be a stubble. It was a bit hard for Matthew to see in the darkness.

"So, what is a young man like you doing out here in the middle of the night?" The stranger persuaded with the conversation. Matthew quickly turned his head when their eyes met. He didn't like eye contact. Hell, it was awkward enough just having a stranger talking to him

"Well...ehm...I-I was walking." The man chuckled.

"And now you're taking the bus back? That's a bit strange, don't you think?" _Strange?_ He's the one who's strange! Asking for a lighter he didn't even need and talking to someone he just met.

"I-It was a long stroll. Besides..." The Canadian crossed his arms and cleared his throat to toughen up. "What are_ you_ doing here?" Aw yea. He was cool again. Matthew peeked at the smoker from the corner of his eye to see if he reacted as he did before.

"Work." The man took another sip of the cigarette, staring out on the street.

"Work?" Matthew dropped his pose. "What kind of job ends this late in the evening?" The man laughed softly again.

"Well." He looked back at Matthew and smiled. "I'm starting to ask that myself." What did he mean by that? Matthew was deeply confused. This man was odd. Smiling and acting so kindly towards him. Jesus, he didn't even know this person! The stranger put his cigarette between his teeth and held out his hand.

"Hey, I'm Francis." Matthew just stared at the hand for a few seconds, then at the stranger, then back at the hand. "What's your name? I suppose you don't want me to call you stranger?" He said smiling. Well, Matthew had called him _stranger_ and _possible-murderer-rapist-serial-killer-gang member-thief _so it only seamed fair if he called him something like that. After blinking a few times he shook Francis hand.

"Matthew." He said bluntly and stared into nothingness to hide his embarrassment. Why did a stranger, no:Why did _Francis _want to know Matthew's name anyways. He isn't some kind of interesting man. Just someone waiting for the bus.

"Well, _Matthew._" Francis said it with a strong accent. It sounded more like _Mattheu. _He couldn't even pronouns his name correctly."Looks like your bus is here." Matthew hadn't noticed the upcoming vehicle.

"Oh!" He smiled and waved to the chauffeur to stop. He knew that they where sometimes old and didn't see well. Especially in the dark. The breaks screeched and the bus stopped. Walking up to it Matthew noticed Francis didn't follow.

"You're not hopping on?" Francis shook his head and lifted his hand smiling. Matthew stared for a moment, he then forced a smiled and lifted his hand in return and walked on the bus.

-x-

Streetlights passed as Matthew stared out into the night. The light swilled over him in a constant motion, illuminating him and reflecting in his glasses. As the bus made it's way closer to home, Matthew felt like time was running out. It was calm and quiet inside the bus. In fact, it was only him and the driver and some old man in the back. The atmosphere in there was tranquil. No Alfred bugging him, no Arthur asking him about everything, no bullies picking on him. It was just peaceful for once. Shit. He didn't want to go home. This bus ride could take forever and he wouldn't mind. But he had to get home. To his life.

Matthew sighed. Back to reality. To shitty, boring _reality_. A feeling of uneasiness filled him. Just the thought of this thing called_ reality_. He had thought of something more to life than this. When he was young he wanted to become a doctor, a Noble price winner and an astronaut. Now he just wanted to disappear. I felt as if nothing mattered anymore. Was anything suppose to matter? Is this the way you should feel when you grow up? He didn't know. What he did know was: he didn't like it.

Having such a bitter way of looking at life drained his energy. This was a problem since he didn't get much sleep. He couldn't eat ether because he was just never hungry. Everything just tasted like cardboard in his mouth anyway. Except for pancakes with maple syrup. Gosh, he loved it. Sadly though Arthur didn't make it that often. He didn't make any tasty food at all for that matter. And that wasn't just Matthews opinion, Alfred didn't like it ether.

The bus stopped. Matthew woke from his deep thoughts and looked at the road outside. Almost there. The old man slowly got of the bus before the doors closed and it started rolling again. Matthew started to count down. 10 blocks left. 9 blocks left. 8 blocks left. It was just like a ticking time bomb. But when it was suppose to blow up it didn't. It was dull just like the rest of the world.

Matthew saw his block coming up. Crap. His stomach turned. Here we go. He got of the bus, feeling the cold weather outside hit him as soon as the door opened. But the chilly weather was nothing compared to the pain in Matthew's chest. He stared up at the apartment complex, fixing his eyes on one of the windows. It was still lit. Arthur hadn't gone to sleep yet. Darn, he had to face him. Dropping his head he felt as there was a massive weight on his shoulders. Anxiety, that's the only way he could describe the feeling. Fearing something and wanting to flee as fast as possible.

He took a deep breath. Okay, he could do this. His boots squeaked against the concrete stairs. The sound echoed and grew larger the further up it came. Matthew stopped at the second floor, seeing the familiar oak door. _Kirkland residence. _The Canadian boy stood there only staring at the name. He finally swallowed and pushed down the heavy handle. It creaked. Of coursed it creaked, _everyone_ in the whole freaking building had to know he was coming home late without any logical explanation.

"Your home." Matthew barely manage to close the door before Arthur popped his head out of the kitchen.

"Yea. Sorry. I lost track of time." The boy's voice was lowered, turning his word into mere whispers.

"No worries lad. Um..." Arthur tasted the words in his mouth before he spoke them. Almost like he was afraid of saying the wrong things.

"Was it a good walk?" He sounded angry. Matthew hung his jacket on a hook placed in the small hallway, avoiding eye contact before sighing and bending down to untie his shoelaces.

"Yea. I kind of needed some time on my own." He could feel his fathers eyes on him as he took of his shoes. When he finally stood up he saw that Arthur leaned against the door frame to the kitchen. Like he was waiting for him. His bushy brows where as serious as always. He looked away cleansing his throat.

"There are leftovers for you in the fridge." The suspense in the air almost made it hard to breathe. Matthew knew he was angry. But Arthur didn't want to show him that, but the boy could tell.

"Ah. Thank you." Matthew pinched the sleeves on his red hoodie.

"I could heat it up for you if you like." Alfred sighed and looked directly at Matthew. It felt as if his mossy eyes stared right through him.

"No, thank you. It's fine. I'll just go to sleep." Matthew said, hiding behind his glasses and blonde hair. As he tried to walk past him, Arthur grabbed him by the arm. Stopping the boy and holding him in a firm grip.

"Matthew."

"I'm not hungry." Matthew said quietly, feeling how his heart sank in is chest.

"You're never hungry..." Arthur's words turned Matthew's blood cold. He just wanted to disappear into thin air.

"C-Could you let g-go of my arm please?"

"Matthew just talk to me." The Brit's voice was seriously low.

"What's going on?" A thousand emotions rushed through Matthew's body making him shout.

"Nothing!" Surprised by how loud he was Matthew covered his mouth for a brief moment, only now noticing his hand was trembling.

"Don't lie to me Matthew." Holding back tears Matthew sighed. He turned his head with the blonde bangs covering his eyes.

"It's...nothing. I-I just need some sleep. L-Let go Arthur...Please." Despite being taller than Arthur, Matthew felt small next to him. And when the Britt straighten his back he felt microscopic. His otherwise cozy glace had turned cold.

"Fine." He slowly let go of Matthew. The boy waited until his hand had completely let go of his arm. He let out a light breath, before walking towards his room. Opening his door Arthur cleansed his throat.

"You can't keep going like this." Matthew body stopped. Those words carved into his chest. He turned around before saying quietly.

"I know." Arthur sighed, putting his hands into his pockets.

"Goodnight." He smiled kindly, raising his bushy brows.

"Goodnight." Matthew lowered his head and disappeared into his dark room. As soon as he closed the door he heard Arthur mumble on the other side.

"Bloody hell."

_Non: No_


	3. Chapter 3

**Forever yours**

_By: Ezio Bonnefoy_

"Okay. Keys, wallet." Francis felt his pockets. He had a faint feeling of him forgetting something. After spinning around, scanning the small hallway he remembered. "Ah, Phone!" Placed on the bureau was his old Nokia, next to some hair scrunchies, a brush and a bottle of perfume. He placed the ancient electronic in his back pocket and glanced at the glass container. _Pour Homme _was written in smooth curvy letters over the side. Picking it up, Francis removed the lid and smelled the aroma. It was sweet, just like a bouquet of flowers. Red roses, precisely like the ones he had in his yard back in France. It was strangely enough a fragrance for men, but Francis would have worn it even if it wasn't. He couldn't help but to love the cheap perfume. Putting it back he chuckled for himself.

He'd actually stolen it a long time ago. Way back when he first came to America. Gilbert had forced him to join in on some sort of break in. While they where inside the man's apartment Francis had found it in the bathroom cabinet. They where suppose to look for drugs to set this guy up or something, but as it turned out, there where none. Just: _a goddamn freaking turmoil! _As Gilbert said. He had fought the desire to clean the place the whole time they where there. The German was however furious when he noticed the perfume in Francis pocket, but forgave him later. They both agreed Francis needed it more then that scumbag. Besides, Gilbert knew Frenchmen who ate baguettes filled with garlic and _l'escargots, _didn't smell that great in general.

Francis sighed. It was such a long time ago, and he still kept that damn bottle. It only shows how far he would go when he found something beautiful. And yes, it smelled beautiful. Anything could be beautiful, look beautiful, sound beautiful and therefore smell beautifully. So he kept it. Only using the perfume at special accusations not to empty it too fast.

Francis tied his old dress shoes and went outside. Warm sunlight hit his face as soon as he walked out the gates of the apartment complex. The sun was setting already, making the sky into a beautiful painting of reds, oranges, yellows and blues. The autumn air was fresh and moist making everything damp in its path. Leaves where dancing along the gray pavement road, shimmering from the amount of newly fallen rain. Francis took a deep breath and felt the cool air fill him up only to be pushed out again. His chest rose under white shirt and the ultramarine coat. It was getting colder by the day. Francis adjusted his scarf, putting another layer around his neck. The knitted wear covered the lover part of his face and hung down, flowing with the wind as he walked.

Making his way to work, Francis stared to reflect upon the region he lived in. The sidewalks where always covered in dirt. Everything from gum to cigarette butts could be found along the road. Everything, except for people. They did not walk around there, only when arriving or leaving. None walked past the fractured walls and busted windows of the apartments unless they lived there. It was understandable since trashcans and containers left a terrible odor along the block. Occupied by flies at summer and by rats at winter. The trash was however not the biggest participant to this. Drunks and drug addicts often used the alleyways as a public restrooms. Leaving there waste behind and letting the odor grow in intensity for every day that passed. The damp air did however ease the smell as Francis walked passed the buildings.

It was truly a disgusting place to live. This is not what Francis had imagined when leaving France. America was the country of possibilities and dreams. Despite that he'd been sent to the absolute bottom of society. Living in this kind of place and working at a whore house wasn't exactly what Francis would call a success. He would prefer to do something else with his life but it wasn't that easy to change. Being an immigrant had made Francis experience racism from all kinds of employers. He hadn't gotten any jobs because of his lack of American blood and not being a native English speaker. This was absurd to him since he could speak the language fluently and that none would think he was an immigrant at first sight. And then there was his last name. _Bonnefoy._ Ether people would think he was of royal blood and treat him kindly, or rage against him. Telling him that he stole the American's jobs and money. At first Francis did not understand these kinds of statement, but did as soon as Gilbert explained it to him. _Americans man! There afraid of Europeans just because we use euro and smaller clothing sizes!_ This wasn't exactly the truth, but Francis got the idea.

An old beer can interrupted his walking. Not that it was in the way. Francis had just kicked it ahead of him. But it hit something that made a clinging sound. Looking for the can Francis saw what it had hit. He was next to the old bus stop. It reminded him of the man he had met last night. _Matthew_. Why had he been here? By the looks of him he didn't belong there. In fact, far from it. And the way he talked, studding the words out. So strange. Francis remembered him standing there with his beige jacket and long blonde hair, covering his pale face. Blue eyes framed behind a pair of glasses and that uneasy posture. He was kind of cute. But way out of place. Like a flower on concrete.

Hopefully, he would never show his face there again. At least that's what Francis hoped. Walking around with those kind of clothes would get him mugged or even killed. People around there where desperate. Francis could have even taken his wallet and watch. He wasn't that kind of man, but had the need for money._ Bad._ He had gone so far to selling out the only thing he really owned, his body. Despite the fact that Francis loved the act of making love, he wasn't proud over his job. There was no actual love involved. Only customers desperate for it. If he could, Francis would make everyone feel loved so that places like the Moulin Rouge didn't have to exist. Sadly though, it would never come to that. The lack of love would always exist, and it would always make good men go bad.

_Good men go bad._

Francis remembered these words. He had heard them a long time ago by his father. They left a bitter taste, but they where true. There wasn't a man born bad on this earth, despite what people may say. Francis believed everyone was good from the beginning. It was the lack of love that made mankind bad. This thought had made him say numerous of times: _Why can't people just love? _Not everyone shared his opinion however. They seem to have lost faith in humanity, but Francis had not. _One good deed a day _was one of his mottoes. And yesterday he had saved not only Belarus, but probably Matthew too. They where in different kinds of dangers, but still. _Merde_. This made him think about his past.

Being occupied by his thoughts, Francis barely noticed the neon sign coming up in front of him. Glowing in a flamingo pink and ruby red it read: _Moulin Rouge, Sexy Girls Live XXX._ Francis sighed. It was a ridicules name really, but it drew costumers. Walking around the building, he took the back entrance. He never walked in the front door.

He was met by a girl already wearing her sparkling top.

"Ah! France!"

"_Bonjour Belle._" He smiled and walked past her into the dressing room. There where a lot of girls in there for being so early in the evening.

"Hi big bro!" A short haired woman said in the corner of the room as soon as she saw him.

"Hello!" Another one shouted between her long bags.

"Francis!" The youngest girl jumped up from her chair and gave him a squeezing hug.

"Hello everyone!"Francis said smiling and hugging the sister in front of him.

"'ellu!" A girl said, coping his French accent.

"Hey, that's not fair." Giggles spread throughout the dressing room as Francis took of his coat, gloves and scarf. He then put his silky blond hair up in a low ponytail. Curling his sleeves up he asked."So, who am I dressing up today?"

It didn't take long before a large argument of who should get there hair and makeup done by the Frenchman. He did as he always would, start with one and move on to the next til they where all ready for the night. The last thing he did was tighten the corsets for the sisters, making sure they where not too tight and not too loose. He wouldn't intrust Gilbert with that job anymore. Lacing one of them Francis noticed the unfamiliar fabric. This one was new. Golden with black lace all over the body. Gilbert had good taste for women underwear at least. Before letting the girl wander of he warned her about the possible rashes since it hadn't been used before. In returned she just smiled and skipped away in her high heels. Francis had no idea how the sisters where able to walk in those. He had tried once and failed miserably. It was like walking on stilts. The only difference was that stilts didn't make your ass look good.

After they where done and there was no one more to help Francis sat down at the on the leather futon. He looked around the room, counting the girls. Everyone was here accept one. After counting once more he knew who was missing.

"Where is Natalia?" Francis said looking at Deedee pushing her breasts down her bra.

"I don't know. I haven't seen her all day. _Damn it!_" She adjusted the tight bra with all her might.

"You need a bigger size."

"No! I can manage this! By the way, stop looking at my boobs Francis!"

"I do what I want." The French said smirking, resting his head on his hand.

"_Argh!_" Deedee was truly struggling. Francis shook his head and went over to the clothe hanger witch they hung their bras and underwear on.

"What's your size?" Francis scanned through the clothing.

"I'm...I'm a size...D"

"Whats your _real _size?"

"What do you know about that? Okay. F Jesus Christ." Deedee finally gave up and just let her enormous chest win this fight. Francis took out a nicely patterned top with extra support for her puppies.

"You know how lucky you guys are? You don't have boobs!" She snatched the clothing from Francis and started to changed.

"I suppose so. There are other advantages about being a man too I believe." Francis scratched the back of his head. There where actually _a lot _of advantages now that he thought about it. Not having breasts or big hips made thing easy for him. Well, not in the whore business, but besides than that.

"I fucking hate you!" The missing Natalia came rushing through the dressing room door, wearing her winter coat and black military boots.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that!" Gilbert came in rushing after her, wearing his a black chalk striped suit. He had dressed up for the night. As always. His white hair was however messed up, and between his bangs Francis saw his ruby eyes.

"Oh, shut up you German dog! You don't know anything!" She smashed her handbag down on a chair next to one of the makeup tables, making Francis stand up.

"Hey, don't be like that!" Gilbert smiled nervously and placed his right hand on her shoulder. From Natalia's inner coat pocket she drew a large knife and point it towards Gilbert. Placing it with a few inches away from him between his eyes.

"Don't touch me. _Back off_." Her voice was lowered and harsh. Almost falling backwards at first, Gilbert slowly back of with his hands in the air. The girls inside the dressing room started to back as well. The only one moving towards her was Francis.

"Natalia calm down. Let us talk." He spoke softly and waved for the other girls to move out. He could feel her tense atmosphere as she turned her face to him.

"Same goes for you frog." Natalia stared into him with her ice-cold blue eyes. It felt as if she would actually kill him if he got closer, but Francis knew her better than that.

"Come on Natalia. I believe Gilbert can be forgiven for what he said. Besides, we both know that knife is meant for cutting fish, not Germans." She glanced back at the albino with a sour expression.

"Fine." She swung the knife back and placed gently at the table, not breaking eye contact with Gilbert. Natalia then, without hesitation, gave him slap across his cheek. Francis turned as soon as he saw the movement, just the sound of her hitting him was enough to make you shudder. Stunned by the hit, Gilbert just stood there in front of her for a brief second, before feeling his now flushed cheek.

"Get out." Her words cut as sharp as always. Francis placed his hand on his friends back.

"Gilbert." He said quietly to his friend. Ashamed, he just nodded and walked out defeated by the young woman. Francis turned to Natalia who mumbled something in her own language, taking her coat of.

"Wow. Natalia, I didn't know you could shut Gilbert up like that."

"Ah! Stop your unnecessary flirting! What do you want?" Still actually baffled by the fact that she dared _slapping her boss on the job,_ Francis just stared at the door which Gilbert had left through.

"No, really." He turned towards her again. She stood in a powerful pose, leaning against the table next to the chair. "Sit down." Francis nodded towards the futon in the corner of the room, grabbing a chair.

"No."

"Please." Francis rolled his eyes to show her how immature she was acting. She gave out an irritated sigh and moved across the room, smashing her boots as she walked. Francis followed her, carrying the chair he just grasped. He then placed it in front of Natalia, who was now sitting with her arms and legs crossed on the furniture wrapped in black leather.

"Now." Francis sat down and placed his hands on his knees, looking into Natalia's cold stare. "Tell me whats wrong." She answered quickly.

"Gilbert is an ass."

"I know. What did he do?" He noticed the girl shifting uncomfortably in her seat.

"Nothing of importance. Can I change now?" Natalia broke her eye contact with him.

"Natalia, you pointed a knife at him. Losing your cool like that... I don't think _nothing of importance _caused that reaction." She didn't answer him. Instead Natalia just kept ignoring Francis."I'm here for you girls okay? I won't not get mad if you just tell me whats bothering you." Francis meant what he said even though his accent made him hard to take seriously. He sighed and moved closer, making Natalia even more uncomfortable.

"I've noticed you've not been yourself lately. Always arriving late, not socializing with anyone. Your mood is affecting your work and the people around you Natalia. I know your strong, so this can't be something easy to bear." The girl shrunk in status and started to breathe more heavily.

"Now, look at me." Francis placed a warm hand on her knee, softly petting it. "Tell me whats wrong." Natalia turned towards the Frenchman staring. Hoping that he would piss off if she tried hard enough. So that he would be frightened. But, instead he just smiled softly back at her.

"How do I know you won't be an ass like Gilbert?" The French chuckled.

"Gilbert _is _an ass Natalia. Besides, I saved you last night. Remember? I care about you. I won't make you mad. I promise." Natalia sighed.

"Don't tell anyone."

"You have my word."

"It's about love." Natalia was slightly embarrassed by this statement. She did not blush however. Her eyes just shifted downwards into her lap.

"Then I am your man." Francis smiled. Love, it was a subject he knew very well. This was no challenge for him.

Natalia spoke quietly, but straight to the point. It was about her Russian cousin. Francis remembered her speaking of him before.

Before Natalia became an exotic dancer she was a member in a circus that toured throughout Europe. Being a gymnast and an excellent knife thrower, Natalia did all kinds of dangerous stunts. Ans all of them together with her cousin. She and Ivan had been insuperable for years, being known as the _Devil-twins_ because of their deadly auras. This did however not save the circus from falling apart. She was forced to find another job, but she still wanted to be together with Ivan. He wanted to move back to Russia and get an education so that he had his future secure. Natalia however wanted to move to America, to chase the American dream and become a singer. She begged for Ivan to come with her with the words: _I love you. Come with me and we will never be apart! _Ivan had not replied to these words, so she had gone to America alone, leaving him behind.

Now only yesterday she had contacted him. She'd told him that they could _become one again_. She wished he only could forgive her for being so blind not going with him to Russia. But Ivan had already moved on, forgotten his past and Natalia with it.

"So what did he say?"

"That he never wanted to hear from me again. He wanted me to stop calling him." Natalia played with her fingers while she spoke. Her face was calm as always.

"Oh...What did Gilbert say?"

"He said that I was sick in the head."

"So? You wouldn't care if he said that Natalia."

"_And _he said I was stupid for loving Ivan. And that he was never going to love me back." Francis chest ached when he heard Natalia say that. She was cold, but not heartless. Those words had scarred her. Goddamn Gilbert.

"I can tell you, It's not wrong for you to love him so strongly Natalia. All kinds of love is beautiful." Francis decided to ignore the fact that they where cousins. Love was still love, it didn't matter that they where related.

"Then why does he not love me back?" Francis bit his tongue. He didn't want to say the wrong tings in fear of making her even more upset.

"What if he doesn't feel that way about you?" Natalia grabbed his collar and pulled him close, only a few inches between their faces.

"What do you mean? Am I not worthy his love?" She said coldly staring into his eyes. Francis grabbed her wrist and carefully removed her hand from his shirt.

"_Non_. That's not what I mean. Natalia, there is nothing wrong with you." Breathing in deeply Francis searched for the right words.

"What if..." The French hesitated when he turned his eyes to Natalia. She was pleading, desperate for an answer. But still she was serous as always with her cold stare. Natalia was tough, but not unbreakable. Francis didn't want to tell her the bitter truth about this situation but knew he had to.

"Maybe, he just...can't love you back."

"_What? _Of course he can!" Her gaze turned hostel.

"Natalia, listen to what I have to say." Francis held out his hands in front of him. " Your feelings towards Ivan are strong, but constantly trying to contact him like this. It's not healthy for a relationship. How many times have you called today?"

"47. He didn't answer any of them. He probably changed his number again." Natalia said bitterly.

"See! This is what I mean. Your turning this into an addiction. You believe you can't live without Ivan-" Natalia broke him off and stood up.

"I can't! And he can't live without me!"

"Natalia!"Francis stood up and held her shoulders, looking deep into her teary eyes. "He does not love you because you never gave him a chance to!" Just for a second Francis saw a softness in Natalia's eyes. He sighed and felt himself ache a little. This affected him as well, seeing the strong woman in front of him weaken." Love should not be forced on others. It won't make him love you back Natalia." Slowly Francis pushed her down on the futon again and sat in front of her.

"You can't make Ivan feel something he does not. If you keep this up he will start hating you. You understand what I'm saying Natalia?" Natalia didn't look at Francis. He noticed her trying to hold her tears back. It hurt him to see her like this. _Merde_. He should have told her in a better way.

"I'm...I'm sorry Natalia."

"No, don't." Natalia let out a shaking breath. "It's not your fault." She covered her mouth for a moment as a tear fell from her left cheek. Francis eyes widened. He had never seen Natalia cry. She'd never really let her feelings show. And now she could barely hold back. She grasped the skirt on her dark purple dress. "I got this dress from Ivan. I'll have to burn it now." She said quietly. Francis smiled softly and reached out to her, placing his hand on her cheek he dried her second tear with his thumb.

"No, Natalia. Keep it as a memory. He is still your cousin after all. Ivan doesn't hate you. He's probably just frightened by you." Now she actually smiled. An uneven broken smile. It then turned into an evil smirk.

"Well he'd better be." She took Francis hand of her cheek and looked into his eyes, this time not staring, just watching carefully. He rose from the floor and met her gaze again.

"Are you feeling better?" She also stood up and walked up to him.

"Yes. Thank you." She pulled him in tight and buried her face in Francis chest.

"How's Natalia feeling Francis?" Gilbert stuck his head inside the dressing room as Natalia gave Francis a quick kiss on his cheek, standing on her toes to reach up. She then quickly took her coat , handbag and knife. Meeting Gilbert's eyes she stooped in the doorway and said coldly.

"I'm taking the night off. I got some business to do. See you around." Then Natalia just flipped her long blonde bangs back, shut the door and left Francis and Gilbert standing.

"What just..." Gilbert pointed at the door and then at his French friend who was holding his cheek.

"She is fine. Natalia is alright. Just give her some time." Francis smiled pleased, looking back at Gilbert.

"What are you smiling for?"

"She just gave me a kiss." Francis responded in his French accent.

"Stop it. You look stupid." Gilbert said bitterly and crashed down at the futon.

"Oh. Are you jealous Gilbert?" Francis said with an evil smirk.

"Of course not! I'm awesome!" He shouted with his thumb pointing at his chest. "Anyways..." The German laid his hands behind his head and laid back. "Did you solve her..." Gilbert cleansed his throat, almost as he spoke of something forbidden. "Problem?"

"_Oui_. It was no biggy. She just has to let it sink in." Francis sat down on the chair next to Gilbert.

"I don't get it. How do you do that?" Gilbert turned to Francis who was still smiling a little.

"Talk to the girls? It's not that hard. You just have to listed to Gilbert."

"_Was? Nein!_ I can listen you _dumbkopf. _" Gilbert smiled and hit Francis arm lightly. "I mean love. I don't know how you solved this but she looked pretty damn happy walking out the door. Or, well you know: _Natalia happy_."

"Yea. You know me." Francis smiled widely but a bit shyly.

"It's probably because your French." Gilbert blinked at him. Francis laughed and dropped his head in exhaustion. Having the talk with Natalia had drained his energy.

"Probably." Francis let his eyes flow over Gilbert's arms and legs. He hadn't noticed it before, but his friend was smaller than him. They where about the same height and the same weight. But Gilbert was however skinnier, not that he lacked muscle. He sure did know how to flex property. Gilbert _loved_ to show off. He was simply smaller built. Francis being occupied in his thoughts, didn't notice Gilbert's hand before he drug his shirt.

"What are you doing? Can't you resist touching me?" Francis smile faded when Gilbert sat up looking at his chest with a troubled face. He unbuttoned Francis shirt a bit and scanned his torso. _Merde._ He was looking at the scars.

"This is not good Francis." The Frenchman grappled his shirt back from Gilbert's hands and closed it. "Could you at lest tell me who it was?" Francis buttoned his shirt without looking into Gilbert's worried eyes.

"_Non. _I can't." Gilbert grabbed Francis right hand, holding it in a firm grip.

"Come on. You don't want the girls to make the mistake picking him?" Francis straighten his back, letting his deep blue eyes look into Gilbert's light red.

"Don't worry. They won't." He said in a deep voice. Francis noticed his seriousness and dropped his posture. "Just...Trust me Gilbert. There is nothing to worry about."

"_Nothing to worry about?_" Gilbert grabbed both Francis shoulders. "You show up with bruises and scars on your chest and there is nothing to worry about?! Francis..." Shit. Francis had made Gilbert worry even more.

"Don't say that. I don't want you getting hurt." Gilbert's eyes where sad and full of questions. "I want you to tell me who it is." Francis sighed and looked at his friend. He didn't say anything. He couldn't. It was a secret he had to keep. Gilbert's finally sighed and let go of him.

"Well. You can't be seen walking around with that. Take some time off until it heals."

"But Gilbert, I have to-"

"I'll pay your rent okay? You have to put yourself first sometimes Francis. You can fix the girls but nothing more." Gilbert tapped Francis knee and stood up. "Go. Live the life of the living for a while. You can't be a bat forever." Gilbert referred to Francis always being awake at night instead of during the day. He had seen the sun set and rise, but that was about it. Making him into a creature of the night.

"But what am I suppose to do? This is my life Gilbert." Francis rose from his seat and saw Gilbert on his way to the door leading backstage.

"I don't know. Make some new friends. You seem good at that!" The slender albino gave Francis smirk before disappearing out the door, leaving him behind. Francis stood dazzled for a moment before smiling widely. Gilbert would pay the rent.

Gilbert was an asshole sometimes. But, he was an awesome friend.

_Pour Homme: For him_

_L'escargots: Snails_

_Merde: Damn it_

_Bonjour belle: Hello Beautiful_

_Non: No_

_Oui: Yes_

_Was: What_

_Nien: No_

_Dumbkopf: Idiot_


	4. Chapter 4

**Forever Yours**

_By: Ezio Bonnefoy_

Stressed students rushed throughout the corridors of the busy school. Girls where giggling, guys where laughing, teachers where hushing. Books and coffee mugs where placed on both lockers and benches along with the papers and pens forgotten on the concrete floors. Herds of shoes could be heard dashing in and out of classrooms, fingers fiddling with keys and locker doors smashing shut. Music from bad speakers blasted in the cafeteria and students sang along to of the modern tunes, making the discussions louder than necessary because of all the disturbers around the small round tables. Long colored hair and tight jeans defined the girls with their excessive amount of makeup. Strong cologne, polo shirts and baggy pants defined the boys. All of them trying desperately to look their best and to fit in. Only to please their temporary friends who they'd lose contact with as soon as they had graduated. The smell of perfume, coffee beans and cleaning product made it's percents throughout the high school.

But where Matthew was, the sounds where simply pens scratching against paper and calculators clicking now and then. Otherwise it was silent. Pure undisturbed silence. On top of that you could feel the smell of freshly printed paper. This is where he belonged. The library. The atmosphere was truly tranquilizing. The air was fresh and the floors where clean. Sitting alone at a table Matthew was reading his test reports. It didn't look good. E-. It was still a grade but Matthew couldn't help but to feel he had failed. Things as: _Lack of sympathy_ and _wrong context _where scribbled in the paragraph. It was only a book report about _Crime and Punishment _for God sake_. _Sure they where suppose to write a text reflecting the ethical rights and wrongsabout the events and topics in the novel, but still. Psychology wasn't Matthew strongest side. This whole chapter of human interaction had him pulling his hair out.

Matthew didn't understand people, and people didn't understand him. He didn't want to understand ether, it was too much work. People where complicated. Why didn't they just think like him? Then all problems would be solved easily without any unnecessary drama. This was probably why he didn't have friends. Matthew clenched his fists. This was bull crap, the report was good. He had read it several times over and polished it firmly. There wasn't a single misspelled word or grammar error anywhere, and he _still _got an E-. He sighed in frustration, taking of his glasses he pinched the bridge of his nose. He did his absolute best and it _still_ wasn't good enough. The unpleasant feeling of guilt grasped his torso like a snake, cutting off all blood circulation to the rest of his body. Crap.

_You are not good enough. Not. Good.** Enough.**_

Why was he thinking this? The words felt like they where whispered into his ears, echoing in his mind. It became louder and louder every time he tried to shake it off. He'd gotten into this state of mind before. The fist time was a few mounts ago and it was starting to occur more often. Maybe it was because of the darkness and weather that autumn brought? Matthew didn't know. He was just tired. Tired of trying so hard and not getting what he wanted in return. This made his head spin and his mind play with him. Matthew rubbed his eyes and brushed his hand down his face, before placing his glasses back. Could this be worse?

At that moment he noticed the clock placed on the high wall next to him. Crap! Matthew snatched his belongings and rushed out of the calm library. He was suppose to meet the psychology teacher at the consent hall 10 minutes ago. Matthew had forgotten it because he was thinking about other things. Damn it. As soon as he entered the corridor Matthew changed his strutting. Since he was in a hurry he walked clumsy with his long legs and had to zigzag through groups of students. He almost walked into an senior with his big load of books and papers.

"Hey! Watch it!" He said in a bitter tone. Matthew turned around as he had passed the man and raised his right hand slightly.

"Sorry." Ashamed, he brought his face down and continued walking. His posture sank as more people passed him laughing and giggling. They weren't laughing at him, but it felt as their eyes where pinned on Matthew. He felt hunted. The boy didn't like to be around crowds since he'd had a slight claustrophobia. It didn't affect him as much in small areas as long as their where no people there. The halls where to small for that many students for Matthew to feel comfortable. The boy did another turn and this time bumped into someone, causing him to fall backwards and dropping everything he carried. It wasn't a senior this time, but a boy Matthew shared some classes with since the summer break had ended. He was tall, big and muscular. Of course he lost his footing, this guy was like a wall.

"Move it shrimp!" Matthew didn't meet his eyes but simply responded with a studded apology.

"Hah! Did you see that? Look! Maple dropped his stuff!" Matthews stomach turned. A girl was pointing at him and laughing. It made his body cold. Students that passed Matthew giggled and didn't mind the papers that where scattered on the floor, walking over them with their dirty shoes. A sour feeling filled Matthews chest, making his heart loose its rhythm.

"Look! Look Maria!" Matthew recognized the voice. It was a girl in a class parallel to him. A popular girl. Shit, he felt his face redden and his eyes burn. He quickly got back on his feet and tried desperately to collect his paper and books. His hands weren't functioning properly, casing him to lose his grip of the books twice. This made the emotions in him stronger, he had to take a deep breath before he could rise. And when he finally had gotten his soiled belongings back he saw a group of girls just staring at him with ugly smirks stretched along their faces. Among them was of course that Maria. This wasn't good, she was that kind of girl who could ruin your reputation with the snap of her fingers. And she saw Matthew making a fool out of himself. They where going to talk about this for weeks, maybe even moths. Crap. With shaking knees, Matthew held his belongings close to his chest and walked fast out of their sight. Shame made him lose his breath. This was so embarrassing. He wanted to sink through the floor and disappear so that no eyes could reach him.

Passing other students he felt them watching him. Scanning his every step, judging him. Oh God, this was too much. Matthew made another turn. He was almost there. The corridor was nearly empty now. He made another turn. There was nothing to worry about. They wouldn't get another chance to laugh at him. He was safe now.

"Hey Maple!" Matthew heard a deep voice behind him but didn't stop to see who it was. He knew damn well. "Where are you going _Maple_?" The senior said mockingly behind him, taking quick steps to cash up with Matthew. The boy's status sank even more, making him smaller. He tried walking faster as he saw the door which led to his destination in front of him. Matthew just needed to reach it and flee.

"Maple! HEY!" The bully behind him raged and Matthew heard his boots smashing into the floor. He was running. Matthew's heart started rushing, filling his veins with fresh blood. Shit. He would catch up, and who knew what he would do then? Panicking, Matthew ran the few feet that was left and stretched out his hand. Quickly he grabbed the heavy door, slipped inside the concert hall and locked the it behind him. The handle was pushed down and he saw the door slightly budge twice before a huge smash was heard from the other side along with words as _cunt _and _fucker_. Matthew breathed out. _Now_, he was safe. His knees dropped and he leaned carefully against the door not to fall down. His heart was still racing, beating unevenly in his chest.

That goddamn Billy. Yes, his name was Billy. A stereotypical bully with a stereotypical bully's name. To afraid to stand up, so he pushed someone else down. Matthew quickly became his victim as soon as they entered their first class together. Billy was American Matthew was Canadian, therefore making Matthew to the odd one. Besides, being adopted by a British guy wasn't classed as cool according to him. Arthur had moved to America and adopted both Matthew and Alfred. But since Alfred was American he was alright, Matthew however was not. Billy had used his inability to stand up for himself to his advantage, taking his anger out on the shy boy as often as he could. And when it came to it, Matthew would rather flee the rest of his life than pick a fight with such an angry young man.

A tingling sound awoke the dazzled Matthew from him from his state. It was a piano. He turned his head and looked down towards the stage. A man was sitting by the instrument playing. Matthew readjusted his glasses and found the strength in his knees again. The man at the stage was Mr. Edelstein, their psychology teacher. He recognized him from his deep blue coat, straight posture and black hair. His hands moved up and down the piano in a steady pace. The music he was creating made Matthew shiver. The notes just seemed to float as he pressed the keys one after another. The shaken boy forgot the past few minutes and just let the sounds that he heard melt into him. It had sort of a melancholy tune to it. He didn't recognized the song, but Matthew liked it.

He straighten his back and breathed out. Walking down the aisle Matthew gained some courage. He wasn't called here for nothing. He reached the stage and stood there for a moment. Not wanting the beautiful music to disappear, Matthew waited until the Austrian had played his final notes. As it turns out Matthew didn't walk in unnoticed. As soon as the piano silenced Mr. Edelstein turned around.

"Hello Matthew. Nice to see you." Matthew almost jumped when he met his eyes.

"H-Hi. N-Nice to see you to Mr. Edelstein..." Matthew spoke softly and entered the stage, holdings his books close to his unsteady chest. The man smiled back and held out his hand.

"Have a seat." Next to the grand piano was an old plastic chair. It had probably been there waiting for Matthews arrival. Placing his books on the instruments top, Matthew sat down. He was getting nervous.

"S-So...um...What's this about Mr. Edelstei-"

"It's only us two in here _Mr. Kirkland_. Please call me Roderich." He smiled kindly. The boy bilked a few times. His name was not Kirkland. It was Williams, didn't he know? Maybe he didn't. Matthew shook the thought, he had to focus.

"Sure. B-But...Why am I here?" Matthew had his head lowered, making him look up at the man as he spoke. In contrast, Rodrich sat relaxed with his back straight and head slightly tilted down.

"Oh, pardon me." He smiled and raised his eyebrows slightly as he readjusted his glasses. "Your not in trouble Matthew. Don't worry. It's simply a grade talk." _A grade talk? _Why would he need that? Matthew hadn't failed the assignment after all. E- was still an accepted grade. Rodrich leaned forward a bit, lowering his head to Matthew level.

"Matthew, you've not been performing so good lately. Your grades are dropping. This is worrying me." Matthews stomach turned. _Your grades are dropping. _The words left a bitter taste. He knew that he wasn't that great, but when his own teacher had to point it out he felt even more like a failure. Matthew snapped back to reality when Rodrich continued. "Is there something disturbing you?" The boy clenched his fists and looked the man straight in the eye.

"N-No s-sir." Matthew tried as hard as he could keeping his voice and breathing under control. He didn't want Roderich to know about the bullying. If he did, Matthew would be a short call away from disaster. Arthur would snap and Matthew would be dead meat. Because if he found out, shit would hit the fan. Firstly: Matthew would be literately interacted, and secondly: Arthur would threat Billy like a criminal, not showing him any mercy. This wasn't good since this boys father was Arthur's boss. Matthew just didn't want him interfering. It would only make matters worse. Besides, he could handle it, most of the time.

" I understand if it's stressful to have a father in the NYPD." Matthew smiled and gave out a nervous laughter. _Good_, he didn't have the slightest idea.

"Y-Yea..." Matthew let his breath out and stared down at his unsteady hands gripping each other. The Austrian cleared his throat, straightening his back.

"Well, Matthew..." He took of his glasses and pulled his glossy hair back. Matthew tilted his head up again. Roderich's black hair had a slightly curled upward piece, making his otherwise strict look rather relaxed. Their eyes met. The boy didn't mind the eye contact this time since he wasn't focusing on Roderich's gaze. Instead he just thought of how much older he looked without the glasses, he seemed almost tired of age.

"The last assignment you received was the book report..." _Crap. _

"Y-Yes..."

"I know you're a good student, and that your grades are important to you. So I wanted to give you another chance. " Matthew raised his head.

"Another chance?" He didn't understand. Why? The test report said E-, not F. Well, it was basically the same thing for Matthew. But students weren't allowed to retry assignments.

"Yes. I didn't want to give you an F since your text was excellent in every way. But you lacked important criteria for me to let you pass. So, I'm giving you another assignment." Roderich placed his glasses back.

"Oh, okay." Matthew spoke but a whisper, thinking of the fact that he had basically failed after all.

"Here." Roderich turned towards the notes on the piano. He searched between the papers and found the instructions and handed them to Matthew.

"Your going to write an assignment on one of Shakespeare's famous plays."

"Romeo and Juliet? I-I'm sorry but I haven't seen-"

"Ah, don't worry. They have copies of the play in the state library." Roderich said, making sure that Matthew didn't have an excuse not to do the assignment. "All you need to know is written down on that paper."

"O-Okay...Did you write that yourself?" Matthew pointed at the notes Roderich was holding.

"Yes, I did." He said in a proud aspect.

"It was very good." Matthew said smiling. Rodrick shook his head in return.

"No, no Matthew. What have we said about using the word very?"

"Um.. Sorry. It was phenomenal."

"Good. Well if you excuse me, I have a lecture to attend." Roderich stood up.

"Yea. Um...Mr. Edelstien?" The teacher looked at him with a smirk, finding Matthew's polite and respectful act rather amusing.

"Thank you for believing in me." Roderich blinked only to smile as if his heart had softened.

-x-

Two knocks where heard at Matthew's door before it opened. Alfred stuck his head in with his messy blonde hair and glistening glasses.

"Matthew?" The boy sat by his desk, deeply focused on his homework.

"Mm?" He wrote down another sentenced before he turned in his chair.

"Food's ready." Alfred smiled cheerfully as he always did. Matthew sighed and nodded. He placed his pen back at the desk and stood up. He met Alfred who smirked when Matthew got close to the door.

"What?" Matthew said slightly irritated.

"Arthur cooked today." Alfred snorted.

"What about it?"

"You don't smell it?" He chuckled as quietly as he could.

"No." Alfred backed from the door into the hallway to let Matthew out. As soon as he left the room the boy felt a strong scent burn in his nostrils.

"Oh my God." He pulled his hand over his nose.

"_I know, right_?" Alfred smothered his laughter.

"Why are you laughing? This isn't funny! We have to eat...whatever it is that smells that bad!" Matthew whispered angrily. Alfred just nodded with a happy face. Jesus he was stupid. Why did he find joy in this? Matthew gave him a strange look before they both walked out to the living room.

Arthur was already sitting by the edge of the table, holding his hand knitted in front of him. He watched as the two boys arrived and sat next to him on each side. Matthew felt extremely awkward since Arthur more than clearly stared at him. They hadn't talked since yesterday when he arrived home late. He just sat down and quietly stared down at his plate, Alfred on the other hand stared at what apparently was their food.

"Dad, what is that?" Arthur turned to the other boy with a slightly confused look.

"Lasagna."

"_You sure_?"

"Yes, I'm pretty damn sure Alfred."

"Well it sure as hell don't look like it." One of the weak sides of the American was that he was brutally honest. He lacked the filter of what was okay to say and what was not okay in a conversation.

"What do you mean by that?!" Arthur spat in his British accent. He wasn't famous for his good cooking, but when he really tried he expected some credit.

"P-Please..." They both turned to Matthew who was sitting like a shamed dog on the other side of the table. Arthur cleared his throat.

"Sorry Matthew. Well then, let's eat."

"No, the prayer!" Alfred held out his hands and smiled widely. They always did the table prayer. Arthur nor Matthew was a believer but as long as Alfred was one, they'd do it anyways. Matthew grasped his brothers hand and held out the other. He didn't know why, but he felt uncomfortable around Arthur. He couldn't even look at his father in fear of making eye contact. His gaze was always filled with anger or too many questions that Matthew knew he couldn't answer. In the the corner of his eyes Matthew saw Arthur watching him. He closed his eyes a moment before he felt Arthur's warm hand around his fingers.

Alfred started praying. He said something about a _heavenly father _before Matthew stopped listening. With his head lowered and eyes close, he felt both his brother and fathers warmth. This was one of the few times they'd actually sat down together without fighting or arguing. They just simply held hands. Matthew thought it was a little strange, but it was somehow calming. It's like all problems weren't present the minute they sat there.

"_Amen!_ Now let's eat!" Matthew let go of both hands and poured himself some water. He didn't want to be the first to taste that _lasagna. _Arthur stretched out his hand to Matthew.

"Give me your plate."

"Um...I'd rather portion the food myself." Matthew said quietly.

"I forgot the potholders in the kitchen. It's too hot to move." He gave in to Arthur's demand and the mixture of meat and pasta was placed in a big pile on his plate.

"Hey, so Matthew. What about Maria?" Matthew got his plate back.

"Who?"

"Maria. You know the girl in B?" Matthew's heart sank. He couldn't stop thinking about the incident earlier. God, it was embarrassing. He felt himself getting red. Raising his glass he took a sip of water.

"Y-Yea, what about her?"

"Do you like her?" Matthew stared back at his brother in absolute shock.

"N-No! Why would I even..." He was in a loos for words. Jesus Christ, Alfred was really dumb.

"Aw come on! Your blushing!"

"No, I'm not!" Matthew was blushing, but for a different reason.

"The whole schools talking about it!" _The whole school? _Matthew just wondered if this was Billy's doing. He knew exactly how to torment Matthew.

"Are you in love with a girl Matthew?" Now Arthur joined in.

"No. I am not! Stop it both of you!" The table went quiet. Matthew sighed and stared down at his plate again. Only screeches from tableware scrubbing against each other was heard along with Alfred's musing for a while.

"So dad, did you kill any bad guys today?" Alfred had taken a big bite and spoke between his chewing. Arthur, who was also eating, simply responded by holding two fingers in the air.

"Awesome!"

"You do realize they're people right?" Matthew was looking at his fork spinning around in his food.

"Yea. But they're bad guys!"

"Yes but they're still human! Besides, Arthur would be the bad guy since he's the one shooting people!"

"But-" Arthur hushed the young American.

"Matthew is right Alfred." He said in a serious tone. The atmosphere suddenly felt tense. Matthew looked up from his plate, meeting Arthur's mossy green eyes. The boy bit his tongue. He regretted his outburst. Crap. Why did he say that? He froze when Arthur spoke.

"Killing people is bad. I know that Matthew. But sometimes good men have to do bad things." Arthur didn't let Matthews eyes slip away from his. "They where two males. I know their name and I have spoken with their relatives." The three men where barely breathing, the air around them where too thick. "I did it to save three young girls. Amelia, Elizabeth and Madeline." Finally let

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up." Arthur finally let Matthew's eyes go and looked over to Alfred.

"It's fine Alfred. Don't worry." He patted the boy on the back. Matthew just sat with his back curled in shame. He didn't know why, but it all felt like the peace being disturbed was his fault. He wanted to apologize too, so that he may get a pat on the back, but was cut of by Alfred.

"It's not easy being a cop, huh?" Arthur chuckled.

"Your bloody right about that. Matthew, eat a little will you?"

"I'm really not that hung-..." Matthew stomach turned and he felt a cold sweat coming. He knew he shouldn't have said that.


	5. Chapter 5

**Forever Yours**

_By: Ezio Bonnefoy_

The sun stood high, warming the streets of New York city beneath it. Yellow cabs roared and horned passing smog filled air and street lights. People where busy, talking in their smartphones and carrying their suitcases. Alone in the crowd was a tall, blond European man. Walking in his on pace, he watched the stressed citizens move around the streets and plazas. A lady in a black coat bumped into him, almost bringing them both down to the ground. After apologizing quickly she continued walking. The man just smiled and shook his head slightly.

"_People_, they need to slow down." Francis took a deep breath. The air was fresh and cold filling his lungs. He enjoyed being off the job. He could relax. It was a little strange since he hadn't been out in daylight for a long while. However he liked it, it was a tiny bit warmer outside. His old dress shoes and worn out leather gloves weren't exactly fit for cold weather. Also, the sunlight gave him new energy, like a battery that recharged as soon as he was hit by the rays. Francis had nothing special to do so he scanned the streets, seeing a lot of new faces. _Ordinary_ people going to their _ordinary_ work. The past six months he had only seen New Yorkers at night. Men had been wearing their cool slicked back hair and women their caked up faces. During the day they just looked like _ordinary_ people. This was a big contrast to to what he was used to see. They where like party animals in disguise. Well, that's Francis way of seeing it. They weren't smiling like they usually did. The dancing and singing souls he met at nighttime where the real deal. That _ordinary_ look was some stuck up act. Well, it was to be expected. Now, during daytime, they where restrained by moral and pride.

But Francis didn't let that get him down. He could do whatever he wanted. Passing a small kiosk he saw the newspaper with a leader that said: NEW GANG DISCOVERED. _New gang?_ This sounded interesting. He felt in his coat pocket after some coins. Looking down in his fist, he saw that he had some cents and a button. Francis chuckled for himself. It was so ironic of him to have a a button in his pocket and mistaking it for money. This only proved how broke he was. He moved out of the crowd closer to the kiosk to count the money. A strong smell of coffee filled his nostrils. Oh, _sweet coffee._ He felt the urge to drink the caffeine filled brew as he located the smells source. Francis looked up at a man receiving a paper cup from the kiosk owner that was stuck inside the small space. They sold coffee, this day just got better by the minute. Francis counted the coins again. He didn't have money for both a coffee and the newspaper. Anxiously he counted once again, as if more money would turn up if he did. He didn't want to choose between denying his thirst for knowledge or his thirst for coffee.

With a frowned face the Frenchman turned around, looking over the crowd. The library was maybe a ten minute walk from where he stood. He could read the paper for free there _and _drink a delicious cup of coffee. He smiled for himself, enjoying his cleverness. Francis bought himself a cup. The paper mug was hot, melting his frozen fingers. With the drink in hand he entered the crowd again. Francis was a bit worried he would bump in to someone and spill his beloved coffee. But as it turns out, he was very smooth walking between the herds of people. And suddenly as he passed the street, he was there, the _state library_. Well, that's what the sign said. It looked like a giant mirror combined with castle with it's giant windows reinfecting the street outside and old brick walls surrounding them. Francis hadn't been there in ages. It always opened at 9 and closed at 5. The poor Frenchman never had a chance to read since he slept between those hours. But with him being unoccupied by his job, he could sleep as he pleased and be active during the day.

Francis opened the heavy door to the building and was met by a warm breeze. The library was dead silent. Barely any sounds where present, except for Francis heels clicking against the concrete floor. Despite him not visiting the library for a while, nothing had changed since last time he was there. There where still the same old wallpaper and oak shelves. With his coffee in hand Francis grabbed a newspaper with the same lead as in the kiosk from a metal stand. He walked around a corner and found a place to sit, an armchair with a small table next to it. Placing his drink next to him, Francis sat down and started reading. NEW GANG DISCOVERED, why did the lead say _discovered_?Had they been in New York before but no one noticed them? He flipped through the paper and found the article.

Francis took a sip from his coffee and crossed his legs, making himself comfortable. Reading, he lost himself in the text. It was a regular article about a possible new street gang. Sipping his coffee again Francis felt really glad that he'd bought it instead of the newspaper. Going to the library was a great idea. It was warm, quiet and cozy. He didn't understand why he hadn't visited for such a long time. Well, there was work, but sometimes he would have time off. Those times he'd usually go out drinking with Gilbert. The nights often resulted in the German holding Francis hair back when he puked the next day. They: _borrowed happiness from tomorrow,_ Gilbert said. And it, as always, ended up to be true, every time they'd been out Francis felt like shit the day after. It didn't matter what they drank, Gilbert was always wild on the dance floor and Francis joined him despite his inability to stand straight. It was fun until the sun came up, because then you knew you had to pay back your debt.

Nothing much in the text caught Francis eye. The pictures didn't say him much either. Leaning back he swallowed down his warm beverage. Suddenly his heart skipped a beat, making him choke on his coffee. Francis pulse accelerate as he got further down the page. Reading words as: _Trafficking, drugs_ and _weaponry_ before his heart finally sank in his chest. _The French Lilly? _No way. _No fucking_ _way. _Francis leaned forward and coughed, reading the section again. _An European street gang has entered New York's streets, their trade mark being the French Lilly. _A cold sweat made Francis heart tremble. His head was spinning. Where _they_ here? Did _they_ know about him? No, _they_ couldn't know. Then _they'd_ be on him already. Francis looked up from the paper slightly paranoid. What if _they_ where here? His eyes searched throughout the library until they finally stopped, focusing on a blonde boy.

Francis blinked slowly. He did recognize him. But from where? He couldn't have been on the Moulin Rouge, he was way to young and properly dressed. The boy turned his head and his glasses flashed. The Frenchman smiled._ Matthew,_ the bus-boy. Now he recognized him. Scanning his movements, Francis noticed that he was studying. Well, he wasn't very surprised. Matthew looked like the straight A student that belonged in a library like this. He seemed almost to melt into the library itself with his knitted beige sweater. It was a great contrast from when he first saw him some nights ago. He was lost then, and this is where he really belonged. Francis then reflected on his own style. Did he belong in a library like this? As usual he wore a shirt, he barely owned any other tops. He had matched with his favorite pair of pants, the red ones. Sadly they'd been bleached by age. And over it his ultramarine coat with matching scarf and his black gloves. He was still cold, so he hadn't taken off his winter wear.

Francis eyes shifted from his legs to Matthew again. It was kind of strange, but he felt harmonious watching him work. He sat there with his blonde hair and beige sweatshirt, only focusing on his studying. Francis sighed melancholy. He wished he'd been able to do that, since he never did finish school, not getting his degree. They didn't really have degrees from where he came, and he really never went to school, but still. Francis took a sip of his coffee. Matthew was still young, he had a future too look forward too. And, well, Francis felt like he didn't. With too many obstacles and dangers in his way he felt that he didn't have any choice. He couldn't become one of these _ordinary _people. It didn't sound that fun at first, but sometimes, being a broke and forced to work as a whore for a living, felt like a heavy block on his back saying: _Failure_. The Frenchman took a deep breath and looked out the window, drinking his coffee. If he could, if he actuallyhad the chance, he would get himself a _real job_. He would move back to Paris and get a _real job_.

Francis didn't have anything against Americans, but France was home, and it always would be to him. _Home. _He tasted the word. Flashes of memories overlapped his view. Trying too unwrap the knot in his stomach Francis thought for himself. Would he actually be welcomed back? Back to France? Back to his family? Back to his so called friend? The feeling of not knowing broke his heart. Did they love him or hate him? Francis switched his way of thinking. Would it be safe to go back? _They_ probably would kill him as soon as he set a foot on French territory. Suddenly he cracked an uneven smile. He would get his head smashed, unless the police caught him first. Then he'd probably be shot dead.

Francis combed his wavy hair away from his face and turned his head back to Matthew. For some strange reason, he always tracked his thought back to him. He wondered what kind of battles he was fighting. Did he have a price on his head as well? Probably not. His biggest worry must be when he got his test results back. Matthew had an easy life without gangs and the Moulin Rouge. This didn't mind Francis though, he didn't envy this boy. Matthew seemed to be a good young man, he deserved what he got.

As it turns out, Francis was wrong. A group of boys in the same age as Matthew arrived at his table, leaning over him as the tallest one of them spoke. Francis recognized one of them. A provoking tension trusted throughout his body. It was that damn _police-kid_. Francis remember how he'd hurt one of the girls badly, not physical, but mentally. The sister had been crying hysterically for hours despite both Francis and Gilbert along with the other girls comforting her. He was known as the _police-kid_ because not only him, but his father, who was chief of the NYPD, had been at the Moulin Rouge. Of course not together with his son, the both shared their dirty secret from each other. Francis stroke his jaw with a face of disgust. That boy was a fucking bastard and a coward. Clenching his fist, Francis fought the urge to to confront him. They weren't allowed to talk to customers outside the job, it was a policy Gilbert had. So, he took a deep breath and the anger disappeared out of him as he exhaled. There was no use in Francis being upset, he refuse to waste energy on such a pitiful excuse for a human being.

At least, he thought so. Francis saw him meddling with Matthew notes, despite his mouth forming the word: _No_. Listening carefully Francis tried to hear what they where saying. The boys where laughing. He could make out a: _Thank you Maple, _from one of the standing students.

"No, please I-I need them!" Matthew was standing up now, desperately trying to reach the papers the _police-kid_ was holding. The boys laughed again and pushed him down back in his chair. That was it, they left Matthew sitting there. The boys where hushed by some librarian as the skipped up the stairs to the platoon on Francis right. He was a little confused, what had they taken exactly? His eyes turned and observed Matthew again. Defeated, the boy clenched his fist before leaning his head down in his right hand. His shoulder blades rose slowly to his deep breath. Was he that troubled? Francis looked back at the three boys celebrating their catch in silence above him. Where those documents really that important? Turning his head again, Francis felt his heart sink in his chest a little. Matthew sat with his hands placed on his chin knitted together. Staring in front of him and bilking slowly.

_Merde. _Francis was fuming again. He really didn't know why he was upset, but seeing Matthew beaten down by that _Con_. Crossing his arms, Francis laid back in the chair, snorting from his nostrils like a bull seeing red. He wasn't suppose to confront customers. But neither was he suppose ignore these kind of things. It was against his own policy. But still, why did he care so much? Francis clenched his jaw and closed his eyes. The frustration didn't disappear. Opening his eyes again, he shifted his gaze between Matthew and the _police-boy, _no: the _Con _and Matthew. The corner of his mouth curled as he chuckled. _One good deed a day,_ he had promised himself. Why leave this chance out when he also could get revenge as well?

Francis drank the last of his coffee and left the armchair with determent steps. His heels clicked as he turned and started walking up the stairs, making his way to the three boys. They where browsing the stolen papers, smiling and chuckling. A shot of adrenaline pumped through Francis as he reached their table. As soon as the _police-boy_ saw Francis, his ugly grin disappeared along with his mocking laughter.

"Hello, _police-boy_." Francis said in his French accent, leaning over the table. He met the eyes of the tall boy before he snatched the paper out of his hand. "What might this be, if I may ask?" He still had his gaze fixed on the reason he was fuming with evil thoughts. Frightened eyes looked back at him, as if he knew what Francis was thinking.

"Hey, what the fuck? Billy, you know this guy?" One of the boys laughed nervously as he hit the now renamed _police-boy. _Francis let his eyes wander from the boy to the paper. _Romeo and Juliet_ was scribbled on the top row.

"Shit, I don't know." He laughed and smiled, only to bite his tongue when Francis turned to him again.

"I'll be taking these, if you don't mind?" Smiling kindly, he reached for the other papers on the table.

"Oh, well I _do_ mind! You can't just come here and steal a someones belongings. Right, boys?" Billy stood up facing Francis with his two bulldog friends joining him. The Frenchman smirked.

"Listen to me, _Billy_. I know you recognize me, _non_?" Francis took a step closer to the boy and grabbed his jaw. "And if I where you I'd be **very** **careful**. You don't want your father knowing where you where the other night, now do you?" With only inches between their bodies Francis whispered, looking down at the boy with hostel eyes. "So let's keep it a secret between you and me, _d'accord_?" Francis eyelash brushed against the bully's flushed cheek before he forcefully took a step back, falling down on the chair next to the table. Smiling widely, the Frenchman leaned close again. "Any complains?"

"Just take the fucking papers!" The boy spat, handing over the documents before Francis could get close.

"_Merci beacup, Billy._" Satisfied and pleased by Billy's embarrassed face, the Frenchman took the papers and left the three youngsters while hearing their confused comments to their tall friend.

"Fucking fag!" Was yelled into the back of his head. Raising his hand in return Francis skipped down the staircase. He heard comments as: _He almost kissed you! Are you gay?! _Followed by: _Hell no! _Before he reached the ground floor. Making his way where Matthew had been sitting, he was just quietly smiling, but inside he laughed like a maniac drained by pure evil. He'd never seen that boy shrink in status like that, he thought it was dead out hilarious.

His grin disappeared however when he arrived at Matthew's table, and he wasn't there. Confused and a bit distressed Francis looked around him. He'd just been here, where could Matthew had gone to? With the papers in hand, he turned towards the entrance. There he was. His blonde hair shimmered as he entered the sunlight outside the building. Rapidly, Francis heels clicked as he quickly left the calmness of the library. Not letting his eyes of the boy as he followed. When he got out, Matthew had already entered the crowd. Since he was tall, Francis could follow him for a few feet before he caught up. At the edge of the boulevard, Matthew turned towards a buss station. As the boy stopped a feeling of regret turned in Francis stomach, making the Frenchman wait, not letting him confronting Matthew immediately. Instead he stood still in the crowd, people passing him on both left and right. Why'd he taken the papers again? This was stupid. Why did he even care at all? Francis shook the thought and stopped questioning himself. Matthew needed a hand, and thay was enough to be a reason. A cold autumn wind caught his coat as the crowd thinned., making the papers flutter. Checking on the documents, Francis held them closer to his body not to loose them. His eyes shifted to Matthew again. The wind stirred his pale golden hair, making a long curly string of it stand out. The boy brought it down as soon as he noticed it waving in the wind. He'd turned his head slightly to the left, letting Francis catch a glimpse of his newly flushed cheeks and indigo eyes behind the glistening glasses he wore.

As he stood there in silence, Francis felt something sown in him as he gazed upon the young man. A strange feeling wrapped around his chest and he didn't know what it was. He felt as if time stood still. Suddenly everything disappeared, there where only him an Matthew. The crowd was gone, the streets where gone, the sky was gone. He felt a wave of warmth as he watched Matthew's back shudder in the cold, as he moved his feet, as he saw him breathe. He turned his head and adjusted his glasses. Francis smiled when he saw Matthew's face again. _Beautiful_. _Truly Beautiful._ He'd never thought he would think that of a man, except for himself.

After taking a deep breath he walked up to the boy, leaving the papers in his hands.

"Don't ask." Francis smiled. He saw a slightly happy, but still confused facial expression from Matthew. His eyes where big and in a shades of deep blue, almost violet. Blonde bangs framed his face in the strong sun, giving the allusion that Matthew's skin was almost white. Francis had to look away, he knew he had to. He had to let his eyes go if him., but he couldn't help but to stare.

_Beautiful. Truly Beautiful._

Almost forcing himself to walk away, Francis left Matthew. Content and slightly thrilled by his actions, he turned and joined the steady moving crowd.

_Merde: Damn it_

_Con: Cunt_

_Non: No_

_D'accord: Okay_

_Merci beacup : Thank you very much_


	6. Chapter 6

**Forever Yours**

_By: Ezio Bonnefoy_

Dazzled, Matthew looked up from his lost papers that where now in his hand.

"Don't ask." The blonde man smiled politely. His shoulder length hair waved in the cold autumn wind. Tranquilizing eyes looked upon Matthew, both of them glistening in a shade of a deep blue. Looking content, the French put his hands in his pockets and left him. Finally realizing what had happened, Matthew turned his way, wanting to say something. But it was too late, he had already join the steady flowing crowd.

"W-Wait!" Forcefully thrusting his notes into the small shoulder bag, Matthew attempted to follow the Frenchman who had handed him the papers. Desperately, he tried to catch up to Francis, zigzagging between men and women blocking his path. The mass of people slowed Matthew down since he didn't dare to push them out of the way. Reaching out he called Francis again. And slowly like a torment, he lost his sight of the blonde head in the crowd. Matthew tip toed, hoping he would get a better view and see where he went. This resulted in him almost getting knocked down from the lack of space at the sidewalk. As suddenly and unanticipated as he'd come, the blonde man had vanished. Finding his balance again, Matthew changed back into his curled up posture. He didn't like the fact that he was tall, it always made him stand out and take up too much space. The shy boy wanted to be smaller, less noticeable, especially in a crowded place like this.

Making his way back to the bus stop, Matthew thought hard. That was the creepy French guy he met at the bus stop the other day. What was his name? Fabian? No, Frank? _Francis? _It was Francis right? It is a French name after all. That must be it. What was he doing here? Was he following him? He must be mad. Well, the creep_ had_ gotten his notes back. Matthew, adjusted his bag strap as he walked. But it was still odd, why did Francis have his notes? Billy had taken them and... Matthew's face flushed in realization. Had he taken the papers from them? But, why? The warm embarrassment Matthew contained turned into burning anger. This was stupid, did he even have a reason to get them back to him? Matthew hadn't asked the creep for help. He didn't need any anyways. Being prepared for things like this he has time to make new notes, it would take some time, but he could manage it. Making his way out of the crowd Matthew smashed his winter boots on the concrete. He damned the Frenchman. He was just a creepy stalker that tried getting on Matthew's good side so he could make a fool of him. And Francis had, in a weird way, succeeded. Clenching his fists Matthew thought hard. _He_ was just like the rest of the world. Just like all of _them_. It was the boy against the cruel world, nothing less, nothing more, Matthew was always alone, always left out, the _lone wolf_.

_Always **alone. **_

The fact he'd just clarified sank deeply into his flat chest. It hurt. Realizing the affect the statement had on him, Matthew questioned the thought itself. Why was he thinking like this? Feeling melancholy he sighed, creating a trail of steam behind him.

It _was _just him, and that was all there would be. Biting his lip, Matthew started to fear that he himself would fall into oblivion someday. The only one who really knew him and noticed him, was- Well, no one. Except for himself. Maybe Arthur and Alfred too, but what would become of him when he moved out? Would Alfred visit him? Would Arthur call him? Would his entire existence start to evaporate? Matthew didn't feel that Arthur really cared if he would disappeared and never come back. The Brit barely even knew he was being bullied. All he did anyways was scold him and try to take his freedom away. Matthew needed space, that's what he didn't get. And Alfred and Matthew they where too different. Despite the fact that they grew up together. Matthew had always been the shy one without any friends, besides his brother. He was calm and collect, Alfred however was like a tornado. He wanted to do this and that all the time, planning bad ideas after one another. In the end it was always Matthew feeling guilty when he let himself get involved in Alfred's stupid plans. Often because he tried to save his brother from his carelessness and inability to think before he acted.

Matthew stopped thinking about his dysfunctional family when he saw his bus passing by the unoccupied bus stop. Crap! The boy ran after the vehicle on the sidewalk, waving his arms and calling the driver. But as usual, it kept going, leaving him behind. After stopping and trying to catch his breath he cursed himself. He knew it was coming and he still missed it.

"_Fine! _If that's the way you want it. I'll walk." Matthew sighed and stared angrily in the direction of the bus. Now he'd be late, which only meant one thing. Arthur was going to to ask _a lot_ of unnecessary question. Cursing himself once more, Matthew started walking.

He was tired of things going wrong all the time. Tired of all the energy he used up in trying to put the pieces of his life together, only to find that they didn't fit. Matthew thought he could make up for all his mistakes somehow, but it always failed. Like the new assignment about _Romeo and Juliet_ , it didn't really help him. Reading the play made the boy's head ache. The old English was just too twisted and metaphorical for his brain to be able to relax. It was unbearable to read, besides Matthew thought the whole story was kind of stupid. Leave everything behind for someone you basically just met? The hormones in the two youngsters must have been wild. And then they died. The end. _Boohoo. _Matthew didn't even think the story was sad, just tragically boring and unrealistic. Such a story could never really happen anyways. Their family's hated each other, Romeo and Juliette should have hated each other. They where on two different sides! How in the_ hell_ could they fall in love? Matthew began to freeze. Sliding his hands into his jacket's pockets, he quickened his pace. He always forgot his knitted mittens. The faster he got home, the faster he would get warm. _And_, the less questions Arthur had to ask. He just needed to get home.

_Home._

Was that house really his _home_? Matthew reflected on the word. It was that bitter place where he barely slept or ate. Where his so called _family_ lived. He didn't really want to go home. Not that _home. _Knowing he was adopted Matthew had a hard time picturing Arthur as a dad and his home as Matthew's home. It didn't make him happy, it wasn't what he wanted. _But..._ Matthew slowed down a bit. What did he want? Did he fit in any home at all? He didn't have any friends, no one to hang out with. Would he be able to create a family of his own? Matthew felt a sudden numbness swell in his chest. He wasn't satisfied, he did not feel that he'd ever fit in. But he did need to have a a home, somewhere to belong. Looking at the pale concrete sidewalk as he walked, Matthew felt the world darken around him, closing like a black hole. People around him in the crowd ceased to exist for a few moments. The busy street became lonely and quiet. Even though the sharp wind grabbed Matthew's jacket and tossed his light hair around, he didn't bother. Nether did he feel the cold biting it's way into his flesh underneath his layers of fabric.

Here he was, feeling sad over the fact that he was all alone. With no_ real_ family and no _real_ home. Why was this so? Then it hit him. The thought that had lurked in the corner of his mind. Maybe...

_He didn't **deserve** it._

He felt the words crushing into him, breaking the numbness. They where like countess blades, tearing him open. Repeating the words in his mind it felt like a knife stabbing into him, then twisting around before spreading out into his limbs. The sour feeling in his chest spread like wildfire, painfully preventing him from breathing. Smothering him just like a noose around his neck. Matthew stooped dead, placing his cold and pale hand on his forehead. What was he doing? Why did he feel like this? His heart was racing, trying to escape his burning chest.

"Move damn it!" Matthew didn't hear the man bumping into him, nor did he notice him doing so. The boy was panicking, the pain was too great. Was he having a heart attack? Did his lungs not absorb oxygen? He needed to calm down. He needed to find a calm place. The library? No, too much people. His room. Yes, his room. Placing one foot in front of the other, he began moving again. Not feeling that he had a home a second ago, Matthew almost started running towards the apartment complex. Truth be told, he was scared. Frightened by the twisted thoughts that surrounded him. Stopping only once, he found his whole body trembling. The voices in his head where screaming. All of them trying to drown out the other. After what seemed an eternity he saw redemption. Matthew ran up the concrete staircase and flung the oak door open.

"Whoa there, cowboy!" Alfred was in the hallway with plastic bags containing groceries in both hands.

"Ah! S-Sorry." Matthew felt his tongue slipper between his chattering teeth.

"Hey, whats up with your face bro?" Alfred took a step closer to Matthew.

"What?" Turning to the hall mirror Matthew saw his cheeks flushed and forehead glistening. He had forgotten the fast phase he had on the way home. "I-I'm going to take shower if that's alright?"

"You look like you need it so do so." Alfred said, patting his brother's shoulder before disappearing into the apartment. Slowly and unsteady Matthew untied his shoes and took his jacket off. Since his fingers where still trembling he had a hard time untying his laces and getting the zipper down. From the kitchen he heard Arthur and Alfred speaking.

"Groceries. And...wait. Here!" Alfred was jolly as always.

"Hm...What's this?" Arthur sounded tired.

"It's the geography assignment. I passed!"

"Oh, Alfred that's great! And you got a C. Great job!" They where both laughing.

"How about we celebrate this?"

"Really?"

"I was suppose to make sausage tonight but I'm pretty tired. How bout we buy some hamburgers?"

"Yes! Thank you dad! Your the best!" Matthew felt a bit sad hearing them get along so well. And why celibate a C? Since 5th grade Matthew had gotten A's and B's throughout every test and assignment, but they'd never celebrated that. What made Alfred's C so good? Another sharp cut pierced in his chest. Matthew shook it off. He didn't want to be jealous at his brother. But he still was deep down.

"Ah, your home Matthew." Arthur stopped in the hall when he was passing through the kitchen to the living room. He held the paper in his hand and a cup of tea in the other. "What took you so long?"

"Ah well..." Matthew said nervously thinking back at the lost paper incident. "I-I missed the bus."

"But, the bus stop is right outside the library." Arthur leaned against the wall and drank his tea. He wore his usual knitted sweater and old jeans along with his overall dusty look.

"I-I know." Matthew's stomacher turned. The voices still mocked him, but only he could hear them. Crap. He had to focus on Arthur. Matthew crossed his arms, trying to hide his trembling hands.

"So? You could have taken the next one."

"I didn't want to wait for the next one."

"Why?" Matthew sighed. Arthur always acted like this.

"B-Because...it was cold."

"You could have gone back to the library."

"I wanted to walk for a bit."

"_Why?_" Arthur shot his words at him and looked skeptical as always.

"It calms me down."

"You don't look calm." Matthew sighed once more and stared down at the floor. He couldn't tell him about Billy ways. Arthur would get _way_ too upset. Though, he didn't want to lie to him. Combing his hair back Matthew tried to hide the fact that he had a nervous aching throughout his entire body.

"I-I need to take a shower. C-Can we talk later?" Arthur frowned at him. He was mad. Matthew had seen that face one to many times. Always that same disappointment in his eyes as he spoke.

"Whatever you say, Matthew." Looking down in shame, Matthew nodded and took the few steps needed to go to the bathroom. He locked the door behind him before sitting down on the toilet lid. Blankly, he stared into the flower patterned tiles on the wall in front of him. His hands where still shaking. The pain in his chest hadn't vanished, but wasn't as severe as before. It was a dull pain, squeezing his rib cage and twisting his stomach. Matthew felt sick, his jaw shattered as he let out a shuttered sigh. Crap. Why was he and Arthur always so awkward with each other? He tried his best but... Matthew clenched his fist around his knees.

_It wasn't good** enough**. He wasn't good **enough**._

Fucking shit, he felt the pain grasp him again. _It was true._ _He was never good enough._ Even thought he tried so hard he'd never be good _enough_. Even his brother was better than him in every way it seemed. Matthew cursed himself. Why couldn't he just be enough? Why did Arthur like Alfred more? Why did Alfred have friends but not him? What did his brother have that he didn't? Why was Matthew always _alone?_

Clenching his jaw, Matthew left the seat and turned on the shower. Usually he folded his clothes, but in a silent protest he threw them on the bathroom floor. The mirror had already begun to whiten as Matthew saw his reflection In the steam he saw a pair a pair of red, glistening eyes. Then his glasses too whitened. He took them of and held his both hands on each side of the sink. He wanted to trow up. Fuck, it hurt. It hurt bad. He clenched the porcelain and looked up. The twisting ice in his stomach was slowly freezing Matthew. Freezing him until he'd be no more. A hot tear escaped his eyes. It dropped down to his cheek, leaving a wet trail as Matthew asked himself.

_What did he do **wrong**? Why wasn't he good** enough**. Why wasn't he **enough** for someone? Why didn't Arthur **love him**? Why didn't **anyone love him**? _

In the shower, Matthew broke down. Curled up next to tiled wall, he cried. Trembling and desperately trying to hold back, he hyperventilated and howled. His eyes burned, his chest ached and his mind shatted.

-x-

Matthew laid down on hi bed in his murky room. The only light in there was sipping in through the turned blinds, a dim light coming from outside his window. Matthew's hair was wet and wavy after the shower. He smelled of newly washed clothes and shampoo. Wearing a white t-shirt and baggy jeans he laid there, staring up into the ceiling. He felt empty. Like he was missing something. There was only one word to describe the feeling: numbness. The breakdown he had before had completely drained him of all emotions and energy. Matthew slowly closed his eyes. He thought about lying there in his bed forever. Never getting up. Never going out. Never trying again. It was a nice thought. Though, it didn't feel nice. It felt like nothing. Pointless. The boy took a deep breath.

_Everything was **pointless. **_

Matthew gently placed his hand on his bony chest. He felt his heart beat, pumping blood to the rest of his body. This was the only sighn that he actually was alive. His broken heart. He didn't sleep, he didn't eat, and his center still managed to keep him alive. Matthew couldn't help but ask why, he'd basically lived like a zombie for a few moths now. He had begun to give up, why didn't his body?Matthew opened his eyes again, remembering an old memory. Arthur had told him once: If you don't have a reason to live, then you have already died. Still as empty as before, Matthew reflected on the thought. Was he already dead inside? Was there a reason to keep going at all?

Two soft knocks where heard on his room door.

"Hey, Matthew?" It was Alfred. Matthew could hear his muffled voice outside the door.

"Yea."

"Food's ready."

"I don't want any." No answer. Alfred had left the door already. Crap. Now Matthew had to get up. The slender boy sat up in his bed and reached for his glasses on the night stand. He rubbed his swollen eyes before he put his glasses on and left the bed. The sharp light from the hallway made his eyes hurt. He had to squint until he made it to the dining room. Both Arthur and Alfred sat with each McDonald's bag in front of them, and there was a third one at Matthew's chair.

"We got you a cheeseburger if that's alright?" said Alfred with a worried smile as he unpacked his food. There was a slight tension in the room as soon as Matthew had entered.

"Ah, no that's fine. I'm not-" Matthew bit his tongue. He still didn't feel a thing, and for that matter, no hunger. "It's fine." Rubbing his eyes again Matthew sat down next to Arthur and got his food.

"Matthew, you're eyes are red." Arthur cut a piece of his burger with a knife. Matthew thought that it was kind of old fashioned. Well, Arthur was kind of old. Not in age, but in personality. Matthew then realized what the man said.

"Y-Yea...I guess I'm tired. I was about to fall asleep when..." Matthew turned to see Arthur staring at him with poisoners green eyes. "What? I-Is something wrong?"

"Nothing." He muttered bitterly and ate a piece of his hamburger of his fork. Matthew blinked before looking back at his paper wrapped fast food. A cheeseburger, fries and a coke. Even though Matthew should feel tempted by this, he didn't feel the slightest desire to consume the food.

"Wait, we didn't do the prayer." Alfred said with his mouth full.

"No worries, this isn't exactly Jesus food, we can do it next time." Arthur handed him a napkin and salted his chips.

"Okay."

"Don't speak with your mouth full, Alfred." Arthur said and took another bite.

"Okay. Um..Matthew?" The tall boy looked up from his unwrapping to see his brother.

"Yes?"

"Is something wrong?" Now Matthew was kind of irritated.

"_No._"

"You look kind of gloomy."

"So?"

"Stop arguing boys." Arthur said with a straight back.

"_We're not._" "_We're not._"They both said at the same time.

"_Anyways_..." Alfred said and drank cola from his straw. "Do you have any news about that new street gang, dad?"

"No. Unfortunately not. We only-" Matthew stooped listening to Arthur's police stories. Hearing how he'd been saving people from inhuman circumstances only reminded him of why Arthur slept with a gun underneath his pillow. After spending 15 minutes with a New York policeman you_ knew_ the world was truly evil. His stories never entertained him anyways. Instead he focused on his food. He placed his fries next to a pound of ketchup that he'd been pouring up in the slowest way possible. Only to avoid putting things in his mouth Matthew also salted and peppered his food before even touching it. Despite that, he started drinking the cold cola. "They're using the French Lilly as a sigh for commitment."

"Oh, that's cool!"

"It's not _cool_, Alfred."

"Yea it is!"

"Do you know how they get those?"

"No...But-"

"Hey..." Matthew spoke but a whisper as he played with is fry in the pool of ketchup. Both Alfred and Arthur turned to him like he had something important to say, which he hadn't. "You know that French guy I met the other day?"

"Yea! The creep." Alfred talked with his mouth full again.

"Y-Yea. I met him today too."

"Oh, what did he want this time?" Arthur's words where bitter.

"W-Well...nothing."

"He just walked up to you without saying anything?" He looked skeptical as always with his bushy brows.

"N-No.." Matthew remembered the papers he handed him. The smile he gave him and those deep blue eyes gazing at him. Suddenly he felt warm. Why did he feel warm?

"But you said that you met him."

"I-I just saw him." Matthew felt his face redden a bit. Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Well, there aren't a lot of men with long blonde hair in New York."

"If you say so." Now Matthew felt irritated. _If you say so_. Why was Arthur always so hard on him? The boy took a sip from his cola and muttered. Alfred broke the silence.

"So, Matthew how did the psychology test go?" Matthew choked on his drink and started to cough. He gasped for air once before looking into Alfred surprised blue eyes. The numbness he'd been having started to faint as coldness grew in him. Crap. Why did Alfred have to bring that up?

"Well...Um..Good.Good_._" Matthew blinked and then looked down at his mostly untouched food to hide the fact that he was lying. His head started spinning again. Roderich words burned in his chest. _Your grades are dropping._ Matthew felt under pressure just thinking about it. He did have another chance with the _Romeo and Juliet _assignment. But that didn't go as planned eather. What if he failed that too? The only thing Matthew felt that he was superior to Alfred with was school, and now he didn't even have that. His brother was better in every way it seemed now. His stomach turned, making Matthew sick. Why? He tried so hard. Why wasn't he good _enough_? Arthur woke Matthew from his inner thoughts.

"Matthew, eat something."

"I'm..." Matthew bit his lip.

"..._not hungry?_" Arthur gritted his teeth at Matthew who was looking back with his pleading pale blue eyes. He had made him furious again. The mossy eyes looked down at him. He was disappointed. Matthew's jaw started to tremble. He wanted to be accepted in Arthur's eyes. He wanted it so badly it _hurt_. And now he wasn't even performing in school as he used to. What would he say if he knew?

"No, no I..." He let out a desperate sigh and dipped a pair of fries in ketchup and placed them in his mouth. It felt disgusting, but he did it anyways. "I-I'm fine." Matthew shuddered as he swallowed. The frightening pain from just an hour earlier was starting to build up again. Matthew covered his shattering teeth.

_Arthur was **disappointed** at him, **ashamed** over him. _

"_No,_ Matthew. You are _not_ okay! **Don't** lie to me!" Matthew jolted from Arthur's serous tone and intensity. Now he was _really_ mad. Matthew only met his blazing eyes for a second before his gaze was to much for him. He had to look away.

"Matthew, you don't _sleep_, you don't _eat, _you don't _speak_. What the bloody hell is going on with you?" Clenching his jaw and curling his body, Matthew felt the flush of anxiety fill him up. Desperately he forced his eyes on his brother who was also uncomfortable with the situation. With a pleading gaze his brother understood that Matthew could not act on his own. Alfred leaned over the table a bit and tried to reason with their father.

"Dad, calm down I think-"

"_No, _Alfred you stay out of this!" Arthur smashed his hand in the table and leaned closer to Matthew, demanding answers. Matthew blinked as his breath rapidly increase in intensity. Panic was getting a grip around him. Voices began to scream in his ears again.

_It wasn't good **enough.** He wasn't good** enough.**_

He had to do something. If he sat here any longer he would defiantly break. Matthew suddenly stood up and said with the strongest voiced he could manege with his unsteady breath.

"There is **nothing **wrong with me, okay?!" His knees shook and barely held him up. "I'm fine Arthur! Just..." His voice cracked and tears started to form in his eyes. "Y-You don't understand..." He took a step away from the table.

"I sure as **hell** don't! You don't tell me anything **because you never speak to me Matthew**!"

Matthew's ears where ringing, his sight was blurry, his knees and hands trembling. He wanted to flee, he wanted to disappear he wanted Arthur to stop yelling at him. The whole room felt as if it was spinning. Poisonous pain pumped through his veins as he tried to speak.

"J-Just..." Something snapped. Matthew couldn't speak a word. His muscles didn't obey him. Suddenly, it felt as he was floating. Everything was in slow motion. Something pulled him down. He lost focus.

"_Matthew!_" He didn't notice his brother ricing from his seat. Nor did he see him jumping over the table and rushing to him along with Arthur.

_Then everything went black._


	7. Chapter 7

**Forever Yours**

_By: Ezio Bonnefoy_

Chandlers sparkled and spread shattered light over the dressing room. Exhausted and sore Francis laid on the leather futon in the corner of it. Behind his eyelids he saw nothing but murky darkness surrounding him in his sleep. It was slowly rocking back and forth. Floating, twisting, turning he slept. With a steady breath he slumbered despite the pounding music outside. His body was in a sweet, soft sleep.

He then muttered and turned his head. His arm twitched twice as a wast inhale broke the softness in his breaths. Dreams of Paris now started to form and occupy his mind. He ran through a small block. It smelled of freshly baked bread and a touch of sweetness as he passed bushes with red roses. The silky summer wind threw his hair and loose fitting t-shirt around. Light shined through his sunbathed blonde mane as he turned around the block. This was an old memory he had from when he was around eleven years old. However, in the dream he was fully grown. He reached a hill which gave him a view of his hometown. It bathed in an orange glow from the late hour sun. Francis smiled. This was wonderful. He was home again.

"Francis!" A girl in a sea shelled patterned dress called him. Her skin was tan and long brown locks framed her face. It shined golden in the warm summer sun. She smiled, he smiled. Stepping quickly, Francis made his way down the hill. The dirt crusted under his feet and made dust appear after him. He approached the lovely soul, blathering in French. She answered back, laughing and smiling. Francis took her hand, he was so happy to see her after such a long time. He almost didn't know when they'd last met. His heart twisted in joy as they started walking down the street. Catching up as old friends do, Francis asked himself why he ever left Paris. He loved the warmth, the smells, and his dear friend.

Suddenly the girl went out of breath, chocking and holding her chest tight. She tripped and feel into the French's arms. Not knowing what was wrong Francis held her up by the shoulders, trying to speak to her. A fear grew in his chest as the girl pushed him away. The dream suddenly went cold. Winter formed as the sun died and streetlights flickered above him. It was a dark street. Snow slowly fell from the sky and ice covered the houses around him. The girl lost her footing, falling to the now frozen ground. Francis reached out a hand to her, in return she screamed and gun shoots where heard. Crimson stains grew on her long dress as she pleaded and begged.

"_Pourqui!?_" She cried and continued begging for her life, crawling away from Francis and leaving a blooded trail after her. The man gasped, and covered his mouth with his trembling hand not to scream. Her voice cracked in desperation. "_Pourqui_, Francis? Why did you leave me? Why did you let me die!?" Tears flooded her eyes and fell down her, now too pale, cheeks. Francis felt an unreal terror rise in his chest. What the hell was going on?

Then he remembered. _The gun. _Francis stared down in his hand in shock. It was there, _the gun_. Why was it there? He threw the gun aside and heard its cold metal scrape against the pavement next to him. Francis hands shook unbelievably as he looked upon the girl again. Pale and stiff she laid face down in the snow.

_No. __**No!**__This was __**not **__happening!_

The man tried desperately to reach her, only to find that his own two feet had frozen stuck in the ground. _Merde_. Panic rose as Francis twisted his hole body to loosen. He had to get to her, he had to save her. Francis had promised he'd protect her. Why was this happening? Francis heart was pounding as he too fell to the ground. Closing his eyes, he felt his jaw smashing into the pavement. A jolt of pain went through him. Tears formed burned in his eyes as he lifted his head again. A pair of deep blue eyes met his. This was not the girl from before. In front of him was a horrid face of disgust.

"Murderer." The man spoke in a deep hiss as he spat the words on Francis. "Killer."

"_Non.._." Francis tried to get up, but failed as hands reached out from the earth and pulled him down. "Let go!" His chest was being crushed into the ground, making it impossible to breathe.

"Spineless butcher."

"_Non!_" Francis gasped for air.

"Francis..."

"_Non!_" Gunshots fired again and light flashed before his eyes.

"_Francis!_" A pair of crimson eyes stared into his above him. "Francis, you alright?" The German had both hands on Francis shoulders. He shook him once more. "Francis?"

"_Oh god._.." Francis voice trembled as he spoke. With one hand he pushed Gilbert away and sat up. Still repeating the same words. Gasping for air, Francis tried to speak but failed as his body shook and his eyes burning. "I-I...I killed her. He said I killed her."

"Wait, wait, wait. Calm down Francis, _who_?" Francis curled his back and covered his face.

"I shot her!" He burst into tears. "The...T-The gun was there. The same _fucking gun_!"

"No Francis, you didn't shoot her. Calm down-"

"She died! I-I tried t-to..._oh god_..." Whimpering and closing his body frame Francis tried to make sense of his horrid dream. "He said _I_ killed her! It was my fault! She's dead because of me Gilbert!"

"Francis..." Gilbert held his friends arm in a steady grip. "Look at me. Come on you French dog. Look up." Unwillingly the French sticky and wet face finally rose from his hands. "It was a dream, okay? You're here now, with me. Now tell me, what happened?" Francis shook his head and felt his chest deflate and inflate in a rapid manner. Gilbert dragged his friend in a warm embrace.

"We both know that didn't happen Francis. Take a deep breath. It was a dream. It's not real." He rocked Francis slowly.

"But it felt real!" The man cried as he gripped Gilbert's white shirt.

"Ah. You're such a drama queen, you know that Francis?" Gilbert chuckled and breathed out slowly. "Hey girls, he'll be alright." A massive hoard of tacky clothed women behind Gilbert all let out a sigh of relief.

"How many are in here?" Francis said snorting and without pronouncing the H. Gilbert let go off his friend and turned around.

"Bout everyone. Don't worry. We're here for you." He smiled and wiped a tear away from Francis face with his thumb.

-x-

It was dark. Matthew felt a slight headache in his forehead and a light fogginess in the back of it. The heavy feeling kept him from moving. He took a deep breath before slowly opening his eyes. White light stuck his gaze and he had to close them again. The brightness had pained him and the unpleasant feeling in his head grew. He tried once more and let his eyes adjust to the atmosphere. With blurred sight all he saw was a pale roof.

Where was he? Around him he felt silky sheets and a soft support. Matthew blinked slowly. _Oh man _his head hurt. Turning slowly to the left he saw a window with its slightly tilted blinds. There where darkness outside the room. What time was it? Matthew could barely see himself reflected in the glass behind the blinds. Looking further down, he saw a nightstand with a pair och glasses on them.

Matthew drew his hand up from under the covers to reach for them. To his surprise his arm had a slight itch. As he finally reached the glasses he saw what he think was that a tube was connected to his forearm. He put his glasses on and confirmed what he'd seen. There it was, with medical tape over it. Why was he connected to this? He followed the tube up to a plastic bag containing some clear liquid. It slowly dripped the substance into the tube that went to his arm. Matthew sighed deeply. He leaned his head up again. A throbbing pain spread throughout his forehead into his spine. Why did it hurt?

"Ah, you're awake." Matthew wanted to turn his head towards the sound, but the dull feeling in him kept him lying still. He simply shifted his eyes to the right. The door to the room clicked as a tall blonde man closed it. He wore a white coat and turquoise plastic gloves. When he turned around Matthew saw his serious face and clenched jaw. "Hi. I'm doctor Beilschmidt . How are you feeling Matthew?" He spoke in a deep and almost military tone.

"Ah...I'm f-fine...my head hurts..." Matthew spoke slowly. Every time he opened his mouth he felt pressure in his temples.

"Ah, that's not good." The doctor wrote in the report that he carried in his hand. He then laid it down on a cart inside the room and went around his Matthew's bed to check the tube in his arm.

"Where am I?" Matthew was met with a surprised face with raised eyebrows from the tall man.

"We are at the hospital." He had a weird accent. The W's he spoke turned into a V's. Matthew shifted eyes to the plastic bag over him.

"What's that?" Matthew's voice was tired. The doctor who was slightly over him checking the dripping cleared his throat before speaking.

"It's liquified nutrient."

"I'm sorry for asking, but are you German?" Matthew was way to tired to filter his thoughts before they turned into words and escaped his mouth. The doctor let the bag go and stood straight next to Matthew.

"Yes. Is that a problem?" He had a pair of pale icy clue eyes, it matched the rest of his almost scary looking character.

"No. I just wondered, you sounded like a German. The accent..." Matthew stopped speaking and closed his eyes. The unpleasant pain in had reached the back of his head now.

"Ah. I see." Matthew let out an unsteady breath.

"W-Why does my head hurt?" The German met Matthew's squinted eyes with yet another surprised look.

"You don't remember what happened?"

"W-What?" Matthew twisted his body in discomfort and felt his forehead.

"Oh, I'm sorry. You passed out and hit your head on a counter top."

"I passed out? When did..." Matthew then remembered the fight between him and Arthur. His blood went cold and he felt a chilly sweat rise. He clenched his jaw for it not to tremble. Arthur's voice echoed in his ears.

_Matthew, you don't sleep, you don't eat, you don't speak. What the bloody hell is going on with you?_

"Mr. Kirkland? Are you alright?" Matthew woke from his flashback. He sighed and drug his hand across his face.

"Yes, yes. I'm f-fine..." Matthew cleared his throat and spoke quietly. "My...my name is not Kirkland."

"Oh, you prefer Matthew?"

"N-No...That's not it. My name is Williams."

"Is that so? The report says Kirkland."

"I may have busted my skull but I'm pretty sure I remember my own name. That's probably because Arthur gave you my name."

"Your father I suppose."

"Adoptive father actually. There is a big difference." Matthew said bitterly and massaged his temples.

"There is?"

"He's not my real father."

"Well, he raised you didn't he?"

"Yea, but still."

"Being a father is not to have an offspring of his own blood Mr. Williams. Being a father is when you take care of a child as if it was your own. It's easy to be afather boded by blood, but it's hard to be one bonded by love." Matthew blinked and looked at the doctor.

Bounded by love? A bitter nervousness shook Matthew. Does Arthur really love him as a son? Matthew shifted his eyes and stared into the pale roof. He felt his chest deflate more than it should have. Was Matthew a good son?

"Well..." The doctor said and replaced his bangs to his back slicked hair. "Your blood tests have been valued."

"You did blood tests on me?"

"Not me, but my assistant did."

"Why?" The pain Matthew felt made him impatient and repulsive.

"You don't pass out for no reason Mr. Williams. Besides, your father asked us to." Matthew swallowed, realizing the seriousness in it. Why the hell did Arthur want blood tests on him?

"Anyway, you have very low values. That's why we hooked you up to this." Beilschmidt pointed with the pencil he held in his hand at the plastic bag above Matthew. "How does your diet look?"

"I'm not on a diet." Matthew said with a confused face. The stiff doctor actually smiled and chuckled lightly.

"No, I mean: What do you usually eat?"

"Oh..." Matthew said a bit embarrassed. "I...uh...I don't eat a lot."

"How about you tell me what you eat usually. What did you eat yesterday?"

"Um..I had a cup tea in the morning." Matthew thought hard. He didn't really think of what he ate.

"Only a cup of tea for breakfast?" The German looked up from his paper

"Y-Yea..."

"_Ja. _What else?" The doctor scribbled down some notes and readjusted his glasses.

"Oh, well...I..." Matthew was a bit ashamed when he actually realized how little he ate. "I didn't have time to eat lunch so I skipped that and then-"

"I should not skip meals Mr. Williams. Especially not in your age." The doctor said flatly.

"Yea. I know." Matthew sighed. "And that's basically it. I don't remember eating after..." He bit his tongue.

"After your argument with your-" He the doctor cleared his throat. "With Mr. Kirkland."

"Y-Yea. Um..." Matthew sat up. "Ah, my head. C-Could I get an aspirin or something?" He caressed his forehead. The German muttered and fiddled in his coat pocket.

"Eat this." He held out his hand. There was a blue pill wrapped in plastic in his palm.

"What's this?" Matthew took it and fiddled with the small tablet, taking it out of the packaging.

"Candy."

"Will this help?" Matthew said with a confused face.

"No. I'm sorry. I'm not allowed to give you anything." Matthew put the sweet in his mouth. It tasted like blueberry. He shivered in discomfort and turned to the doctor again. Matthew hated blueberry flavored stuff.

"How come you don't eat Mr. Williams?" Matthew almost chocked on the candy. Why did he have to ask that? A nervousness crawled in Matthew. Why was this even a sensitive subject?

"I-I'm not hungry that often." Matthew tried focused on the taste in his mouth instead of the twisting in his stomach.

"Do you feel stressed Matthew. Maybe from school work or performance anxiety?" Matthews eyes met the Germans. He was dead serious. Rapid heartbeats hit Matthew harder in the chest.

"N-No. W-Why are you asking me this?"

"I'm a doctor. It's my job to treat my patients, but first I need find out what's wrong. Therefore I have to examine you."

"But there is nothing wrong with me." Matthew said lightly but was silenced by the Germans deep tone.

"Matthew, it is not normal to eat as little as you do and it's not normal not to be hungry. You do have to understand that." Matthew sighed and nodded. "Now, a final question. Do you ever feel like you are depressed? " Matthew's eyes widened. Depressed?

"I-I'm afraid I don't understand."

"Do you have heavy thoughts? Do you ever get sad for no reason?" Matthew's heart sunk in his chest as his hands grasped the sheet over him.

"N-No." The doctor wrote down some final notes before he rose from his seat.

"Alright that's all I need to know I'll leave you to your resting. Good day Mr. Williams."

"Bye." Matthew said with a shuddered breath as the German left him. When he saw the door close he drew his fingers through his blonde hair. Why did he lie to him? Matthew didn't know what made him say no. It was like a reflex. The word just escaped his lips. When he thought about it, what would have happened if he did say yes? Terrible fates played up before Matthew. Arthur would be furious. He was also a bit ashamed, he did feel sad. But was he really depressed? No, he couldn't be. Matthew knew what a man looked like in his deepest stage. It was a horrible sight. That could not be him.

The door clicked. Matthew shifted his eyes up from his knitted hands. Quickly and swiftly a man moved inside the room and carefully closed the door.

"Alfred?" The boy turned to his brother. He wore his blue America hoodie along with a pair of worn out jeans. His hair was all messed up and he had bags under his eyes behind his square glasses.

"Shh! I'm not suppose to be here!" He whispered between his teeth and smiled widely. Alfred sat in the chair next to Matthew and patted him lightly on the back before his hand rested on his shoulder. "How are you feeling?" Alfred's touch was warm just like his smile and gaze.

"I-I'm fine. My head hurts a bit." Matthew watched his brother glance at the entrance nervously when footsteps where heard outside the door. "But why are you not suppose to be here for?"

"Yea. You busted your head pretty bad bro." Alfred grinned and laid back in the chair. "You bled a little actually." He pointed at his head where Matthew had hit himself before scanning the door once again.

"Alfred_._"

"Yea?" His brother still stared at the entrance to the room.

"What's going on?" Alfred looked back a bit worried.

"You're really fine?" The Canadian nodded. "What did the tests say?"

"That I had low values apparently."

"What did the doc say?"

"That I should eat more. _Alfred?_" Matthew looked at his brother with a glare since he avoided the question.

"Okay." He moved close to Matthew and spoke in a low tone. "You're not allowed to have visitors. Dad forbid it. I've been trying to sneak in a few times-"

"Wait, he didn't even allow_ you_ to see me?" Matthew couldn't believe this. He knew Arthur was overprotective but this was ridicules.

"Yea. You know how he can be."

"But why didn't you stay out? You'll get in trouble if he sees you!"

"Yea, I know. But I wanted to see you anyways." Matthew couldn't help but to smile back at his brother. He was stupid, but kind. "Did the doc say anything else?"

"No. He just asked me if I was depressed and such." Matthew massaged his temples to relive the headache he had built up under the time he'd been awake.

"Well, are you?" Alfred looked up upon his brother with soft eyes.

"What? No, no, no...I'm not like Arthur was."

"No that's true, you're not like him." Alfred stroke his jaw and lowered his head. A silence passed between the boys. "How long time ago was it?" The American had troubled memories in his eyes.

"Like, six years ago?" Alfred nodded.

"Moms passing hit him hard, ey?"

"Yea." Matthew sighed. Now he too saw memories flash.

It was a night that still haunted him. He remembered that he'd just turned thirteen. On his way to the bathroom he muttered lightly with his sleepy gaze. Passing the lit kitchen he'd seen Arthur sitting. His face was down in the table and next to him was empty bottles of all the liqueur that was normally stored in the glass cabinet. With curled back and an empty glass in one hand and his head in the other he sat silent. Matthew wanted to ask why his father was up this late but as soon as he saw what he was doing he stooped dead in his tracks. His father who was a kind and respected man was drowning his sorrows in the depths of alcohol. But that wasn't was Matthew was so afraid of. It was the fact that he was crying. His eyes where red and swollen and tears where falling from both his cheeks. He'd never seen his father like this. His mossy green eyes where dark and filled with heartache and agony. When Arthur finally noticed Matthew standing there in the hall he tried desperately to dry his tears and regain his pride. With his slurred speech he attempted to tell Matthew to go to bed, that he wasn't crying and that he wasn't drunk. He even staggered while he tried to walk over to him. But Matthew knew he was lying. Terror filled him, he didn't recognize this man. That's when Matthew stop thinking of Arthur as his father. The act he'd put up with: _I'm fine_ and _Mom's in heaven watching us_ was all a a big distortion to hide the fact that he was just like Matthew and Alfred, mournful and full of sorrow.

After that Arthur had to take some time off work. He wasn't allowed to since he would have mental breakdowns during working hours. Instead he just sat at home, watching TV and drinking. Of course he got out of this distress, but when he did Matthew had already moved on without Arthur. After that their relationship was kind of bent, but not broken. He still had a bond, but is was transparent. It had all worsened a few moths ago. Arthur and Alfred had gotten really close. That pushed Matthew out.

"Hey, how's your head?" Matthew got a grip of reality again.

"It hurts like hell. I wanted an aspirin but the doctor wasn't allowed to give me anything."

"Well, that's cause..." Alfred bit his tongue and shook his head. "That's dad's merit."

"But why? I would like something to numb the pain. Does he want to mock me or something?"

"No, no, no. That's not what he's doing Matthew." Alfred leaned his elbow against the bed.

"Then what is his problem? He treats me like a culprit every time I see him. I know he's a policeman but-"

"Matthew. That's because he's worried about you." Matthew sighed irritated.

"Well I'm fine. He has noth-" He suddenly felt a warm grip around his arm.

"I'm worried about you too, Matthew." Alfred's sky blue eyes stared right through Matthew. "If there is something wrong, I want you to tell me." His voice was low and his eyes pleading. Matthew was baffled by the words he just heard. He'd never heard his brother that serious.

"A-Alfred..."

"I mean it." Matthew just looked deeply into his brothers eyes. Twisting anxiety flushed through him. Should he tell him? Tell him about the thoughts he'd been actually having? Would he understand? Should he tell him bout Billy? What if he told Arthur?

"I-I..." Matthew bit his tongue and stared down into the bedsheets. "I'm fine."

"You sure bro? You know you can tell me anything." Matthew pulled his brothers hand of his arm and looked into his eyes.

"I know you don't believe me but...i got things under control, alright?" Alfred shifted uncomfortably in his seat and leaned closer to Matthew.

"What..._things?_" Matthew shook his head with a frowned face.

"Alfred. I-" Both the boys tensed as the door to the room opened.

"Yes. What_ things?_" Said the British and deep voice. They both turned and saw Arthur walk in on them with his police uniform on and his head held high.

_Pourqui: Why_

_Merde: Damn it_

_Non: No_

_Ja: Yes_


	8. Chapter 8

**Forever Yours**

_By: Ezio Bonnefoy_

Turmoil of students and teachers passed Matthew as he got the final books from his locker. The lock clicked, he put his winter jacket on and he started moving. Giggles and whispering where heard throughout the corridor as the slender Canadian boy lumbered through it. He felt as if something was odd. Normally he would get looks and weird comments from the students but today, people moved away from Matthew as he had to cross through the crowds. Did they know about yesterday? Well, it's not like they'd care, but there was something wrong. This thought made Matthew more uncomfortable than usual. What if Arthur was waiting for him outside? He'd picked Matthew up in his police car a few times. He actually thought it was kind of cool when he was younger, but now in his older days Matthew it was just embarrassing. Maybe that was the reason for all the oddness. But it had been like this all day. What if Arthur had come to school and talked to the students? The boy felt his cheeks warm up embarrassment as he turned. No, he didn't know about Billy. Matthew had just told him about failing his assignment and made up a story about being stressed by school work. It covered up all the other disturbance around him. In the end Arthur didn't know a lot about Matthew's problems and the boy wanted to keep it that way. The more he got involved the more problems would occur.

"Hey, Matthew?" A girl's voice was heard behind him. Matthew tensed since he recognized it. The light tune belonged to Maria. The girl he apparently had _a crush on that the whole school knew about_, according to Alfred. He didn't want to speak with her. He didn't want to be seen with her ether for that matter. It could lead to more misunderstandings. Matthew just simply kept walking, he was almost out of the hellish building.

"Matthew!" He heard her again, this time there was a pleading in her voice. Suddenly Matthew felt a hand on his shoulder. _Shit_. It was her. He turned and looked down on Maria, she wasn't that tall. Her silvery bangs drawn back and big eyes looked into Matthew's.

"Y-Yea? What do you want?" He said bitterly without looking her in the eyes and tried to push her presence away.

"H-Hi!" She said smiling with a nervousness around her. Giggles from her friends a few feet away kept her looking in the corner off her eyes. "Um...I was wondering if you'd like to walk home with me? We live at the same block you know?" Her lips curved slightly upwards as she spoke. She was acting weird too. More giggles where heard behind her.

Matthew clenched his jaw. Was this some kind of joke? Why was she even talking to him? It was a game. She wanted to mock him. Just like everybody else. Shit, why didn't they just leave him alone? Matthew gained some courage and straightened his back, just like Arthur always did. His heart raced in his chest as he prepared to let her know that he wouldn't want to be with her.

"_No_." Matthew couldn't believe himself. He actually said it. _He rejected her_. He stood up. Maria almost seemed surprised by Matthew's answer.

"But, uh...I wanted to make sure you got home alright since you hurt yourself yesterday." Matthew frowned.

"How-"

"Alfred told me." She sad before he could ask. Matthew's heartbeat was rapid now. Why did Alfred tell _her_? I mean, they didn't have some kind of relationship. And why did she care in the first place. Matthew felt the eyes of the students around him watching them, judging him. His cheeks where already flushed as he realized how close to him she actually stood. He needed to flee. People would get the wrong idea.

"I need to-to go." The tall boy turned and held his bag strap. He took a few determent steps before he felt something on his arm.

"But Matthew-" Maria grabbed Matthew's sleeve. The giggles now turned into laughter. A shot of anxiety hit Matthew. This was too much. He didn't want this. She was making a fool out of him. They laughed at him. They laughed at him because he was _no one, _but not at her because she was _someone_. Matthew knew it would always be that way. It would never change, even if he wanted it to. But right now he was afraid of change, afraid that it would get worse. So Matthew just told her in a quiet and weak tone.

"Don't...P-Please..." Matthew didn't realize it. But he was scared. He didn't want her to be seen that close to him. He was an oddity, an alien, a_ weirdo_. If she was really trying to befriend he'd only pull her down to the depths with him. What if people would start to mock her too? If this was really the case he had to break whatever _bond_ she thought they had. On the other hand her smile could really be an evil smirk. "Leave me be." He finally said and walked away. Matthew felt his chest ache as the girl group busted out into laughter.

She'd tried to make a fool of him after all.

-x-

Matthew swiftly exited the building and met the cold breeze. It cooled his flushed face. Skipping down the stairs Matthew looked around him. Arthur wasn't here after all. It would've been nice with a ride home in this weather. Fiddling in his pocket Matthew tried to find some leftover change for the bus. As expected, he had none. Crap. No he had to walk all the way home and he was already freezing. Matthew shuttered and put on his mittens. At least his hands weren't going to be cold.

To his surprise the streets where dry for once. It hadn't rained during the night. The once red maple leaves where now gray and brown from age. They flew freely in the autumn wind along with dirt and plastic bags. Matthew was tired. He hadn't really slept during the night at the hospital. His head was still heavy too. Arthur said he was lucky he didn't get a concussion. Alfred had gotten one a few moths ago and had to stay at the hospital for two whole months. Matthew thought back at that time. Maybe that's when Arthur and his brother got close. During his stay at the hospital Matthew had only time to visit him after his schoolwork was done but Alfred was only able to meet him a few times. Arthur often said that he was in a bad state. Despite that statement Arthur was always there. He was barely at home. Sometimes he even slept at the hospital.

The boy exhaled. There was actually a part of Matthew who wanted him to get hurt that bad. Not because he liked getting hurt. But, then he'd have some time to spend with Arthur. Father and son time. Matthew smiled sorrowfully. He knew that wouldn't happen. Arthur's actions proved that last night. Interrogating him like that. He was a policeman instead Matthew's father. The boy turned around a corner with lowered head. His chest started to ache again as it had when he was on his way home yesterday. Matthew felt that maybe, he'd never be accepted by Arthur.

"**Hey Maple!**" A pair of strong arms grabbed Matthew and flung him to the side. The boy staggered and found his balance again as he was met by three men in his own age. "There you are you little shit!" Before him stood Billy and his two companions like guard dogs beside him. They'd cornered him into a small alleyway Matthew's pulse hit him hard in the chest as a nervous fear started to form. Looking to the side he saw the sidewalk that had protected him up until now. If he got out there again maybe...

One of the bulldogs blocked the escape rout and Matthew turned to Billy again. "Hey there buddy." He chuckled mockingly and cracked his knuckles. "How's that head of yours?" The beefcake took a step closer.

"I-I'm f-fine. Why are-" Matthew went out of breath as Billy put is hand beside him on the brick wall.

"Good. Good. I need to ask you a few questions bro." He smirked towards Matthew who now was terrified by his character. His breath stank of alcohol and his clothes of newly smoked cigarettes. Was Billy drunk?

"B-Billy?" He finally backed away from Matthew bursting into laughter.

"Hear that boys? He fucking stutters!" Matthew's back was glued to the cold wall behind him as the two boys at his side joined in the chuckling. "Hey, I need to know." Billy slurred a bit and had a hard time standing straight. "How do you know the fag?" Confused and with his heart beating rapidly I his chest.

"I-I'm sorry. I'm afraid t-that I don't understand w-who you mean-"

"The fucking French!" Billy spit at Matthew with all his might. "**How** do you know him?!" His eyes where wild and didn't let Matthew's rest on anything else but him.

"I-I don't know him..." Matthew said with the little voice he could manage.

"What? What did you say you little shrimp? **Speak up!**"

"I don't know him!"

"Is that so? Huh..." Billy walked around. This only stressed Matthew more. "Then...Then why'd he do that? Hm? Why'd he give you the papers back?" Billy spoke in a rapid phase as his eyes where locked on Matthew.

"I d-don't know..." Matthew tried to breathe slowly. Billy walked faster than flung his arms on Matthew and trusted him against the wall.

"**Don't **fucking lie to me! I'll fucking bust your head **for real**!" Matthew felt a sharp pain trough his spine as Billy crushed him against the wall again. "**TELL ME!**" Pure terror filled Matthew as two eyes red with fury stared into him. He couldn't form words with his mouth, his body didn't cooperate with him. The boy simply shook his head and closed his eyes. "**That's it! You're dead!**" Billy held Matthew with one arm and charged the other. The boy quickly shoved his arms in front of him for protection. He heard the fabric of Billy's jacket draw back just before the impact of the punch.

"Oh no you don't!" The hard grip on Matthew's jacket loosened as the familiar voice suddenly roared. The boy opened his eyes. Before him was a blonde man in an ultramarine coat and on the ground laid Billy. "Now let's calm down, _non_?"

"Fucking fag!" The boy spit and tried to get back up on his feet again.

"Ah so you do remember _moi_. How lovely!" The French said in a jolly tone before turning around to Matthew. "We're leaving." He grabbed Matthew's arm to drag him along but was stopped by one of the bulldogs.

"Grab him!" Screeched Billy to his other friend behind Matthew. The big boy put his strong arms around Francis and held his arms locked. Matthew, who still didn't comprehend the situation fully, was pushed aside. Tripping over trash brought him to the ground. Luckily the boy's winter coat eased the fall quite a bit. After Matthew regained his body control he looked up only to see the three boys on Francis. Two of them holding him still against the wall and Billy giving him a right hook. The cracking sound was unbearable, and on top of that Francis lip had busted open with a red stripe along his mouth. As Matthew started to panic in fear that the man in front of him would be beaten to death the French finally fought back.

"Wonderful!"Francis growled before kicking Billy with his slender and long leg directly in his crotch. Billy fell to the ground with a high pitch scream as his companions where attached by the Frenchman. Matthew wanted to turn his head away but couldn't let his eyes of Francis. He'd never seen anyone fight quite like him before. Matthew had only seen Alfred fight with a kid once in grade school and some MMA on TV once or twice, but this was something else. It looked as if Francis punches went throughout his whole body before reaching out to his fists. It created such a great power, Matthew could actually see his muscles tense under his white shirt as his ultramarine coat flow aside in his movements. He was so fascinated by this that he didn't notice Francis breaking Billy's nose or bringing the other two youngsters down.

Finally, the fight was over and Francis turned to Matthew who was still wide eyed. With a kind smile he sat down next to Matthew and patted him on the shoulder.

"You okay there? Matthew?" The boy finally woke from his inner thoughts and tried to say something but failed since he still was in shock.

"I...I..."

"I'll fucking kill you." Squeaked Billy while holding his genitals and twisting in pain on the ground behind them.

"Come on. Let's go." Francis grasped Matthew's arm carefully and led him out of the alleyway. The streets where busy with people around them as they walked through the crowd. Still confuse Matthew tried to talk to Francis.

"Y-Your lip-"

"I know." Francis said while walking in a steady phase.

"A-Are you-"

"Calm down. I'm fine." Matthew still didn't comprehend how the situation suddenly could have become so hostel. He still heard Billy's voice scream into his ears: _You're dead!_ Startled he just continued walking with Francis on his side. He could feel his strong hand carefully placed around his arm. It was warm despite the black leather gloves he wore. Matthew thought of Billy, he'd definitely bust his head now. Looking over to Francis he saw the cut on his lip, it was red and already swollen. There was also some bruising on his left cheek, probably from another punch that Matthew hadn't seen.

He was hurt because Billy and his gang had attacked Matthew. But why did Francis interfere? Suddenly he met Matthew's confused look with a warm smile. Why did he smile? Matthew then stopped dead in his tracks. This was some kind of trick.

"Let go off me!" The boy twitched his arm out of Francis grip and took a step back. Francis lifted his arms to his chest with a faint smirk.

"Are you alright?"

"Y-Yes I-I'm fine." Matthew's tongue slipped despite his attempt to be calm. He finally saw the Frenchman from top to bottom. Dirt and a little bit of blood covered his coat and white shirt. Matthew's heart skipped a beat and started to leap. He covered his mouth for a second before his trembling hands where placed on each side. "You stupid idiot! A-Are you stalking me?" Francis looked baffled from the words he heard coming out of Matthew's mouth. And when Matthew had said it, he was surprised too.

"Well, excuse me for saving your life." The French said lightly and laughed. He must has thought Matthew was still in chock.

"No seriously! First the library and now this!"

"Hey, calm down Matthew." Francis still pronounced his name like _Mattheu_.

"No! I was just attacked!" Matthew pleaded and backed yet another step away from the French. Looking nervously at the pedestrians at the street Francis got closer to the boy and tried to calm him.

"_Oui,_ that's partly my fault, now if you'd just-"

"W-What? You brought this on me?" Matthew's heart started to beat even faster as Francis tried to grab his arm again.

"Non, not like that. I took the papers from those boys and then they got mad, because they thought you knew _me._ That resulted in them wanting to beat _you_ up since your weaker than me-"

"Don't touch me!" Matthew started walking away from the poor man trying to explain himself. His gut twisted and the turmoil and confusion filled his mind.

"_Matthew._.." Francis sighed and walked after him. Matthew growled in frustration. Who was this guy? Why did he come after him? Why did he try to help him? What was his motive? Matthew just wanted to be left alone. He finally then turned to the other man who was closely following him.

"Why'd you do that?" Finally Francis was kind of fed up with Matthew's rough ways and said in a serious tone.

"Are you kidding me? They where going to tear you to pieces!"

"N-No..." Matthew calmed down a bit. "Why'd you get my papers back? If they are the reason for this chaos, I want to know." Francis was quiet or a second before answering him, almost searching for an answer.

"Well...I wanted to set things right."

"Set things right?" This guy was unbelievable. Did he think he was some kind of superhero? Matthew didn't really know how to react. "Then why help a stranger?"

"Matthew we are barely strangers. I know your name now, don't I?"

"But why _me_?" The French sighed and looked away a bit frustrated.

"I don't know. You just happened to be there."

"Y-Yea. Sure." Matthew looked down into the ground. His cheeks where getting warm. Was he embarrassed? Why was he embarrassed?

"Besides, I wanted to teach that _imbécile_ a lesson."

"Why'd you drag _me_ into this?"

"Oh, sorry about that. I did not mean to." He smiled again. That warm melting smile. It stretched across his stubble chin. Matthew stared at it for a second before he fumed up again.

"Are you out of your mind? Jumping in on a fight like that. Jesus, they could have killed you!"

"Oh,_ non, non, non_. They'd wouldn't have done that."

"Then why'd you hit him back?" Francis blinked with a blank expression. "I-If you didn't hit back he would have lost his excitement and left you alone!" The man started to laugh lightly.

"But Matthew, you have to stand up for yourself. Besides, I wanted to beat his _derrière_!"

"_Why?_" Matthew felt like he got more questions then answers at this point. He wanted to know why this man, this stranger, would get into a fight that left him hurt to help someone he didn't even know.

"He's a fuckingasshole I tell you!" Matthew jolted back a bit from Francis harsh words. The French then turned towards the detections of the alleyway yelling and showing his middle finger. "_Putain!_"

"B-But...You didn't have to beat him down!"

"Self defense, Matthew. Anyways, he is a pig who likes to dominate women. A _bad man_." Francis accent was more noticeable now that he almost seemed a bit upset. He never pronounced his H's and growled his R's. For some strange reason, Matthew found this very fascinating.

"How do you know that? Don't tell me you hang out with that guy." The French smiled again.

"_Non,_ I do not." He took a brief pause. "I know the girl he is seeing, Jessica. She told me everything I need to know about him." Matthew raised his brows.

"Wait, you mean Lara right?" Francis raised his in return.

"_Lara? Merde, _I got bad news for her..."

"What?"

"_Non_, my turn to ask you some questions. Why did they take your notes at the library?" Matthew met his blue eyes in an uneasy state. They didn't have the same demanding look as Arthur's had. Instead they where deep, more unaware, not critical. Matthew was still however scared to tell him the fact that he was being bullied. A familiar heavy feeling grew in Matthews chest.

"I-I...Um..." Francis than raised his head a bit, almost like he realized something. He turned slightly and nodded towards the streets Matthew.

"It's getting cold, _non?_ I'll walk you home."

"W-What? No, I-I can do that myself!"

"Oh, but what if they come after you again? I want be there to save your sorry ass then."

"You didn't save me!"

"_Oui,_ I did. Since I got you in trouble how about I make it up to you by being your handsome knight in shiny armor for today." Matthew just looked at the friendly face in front him with flushed cheeks. He couldn't tell if he was joking or being fully serious. _Handsome knight_? This only made Matthew feel like a little helpless princess, truly embarrassing. He was handsome though. Matthew changed his ways of thinking. If he just walked home he'd be rid of this creep.

"Fine." The younger man muttered and started walking. Francis happily joined him and put his hands in his coat pockets.

"So...What are the notes for?" Matthew was irritated by the fact that the French wanted to talk so much.

"For an assignment."

"What assignment?" Matthew felt a nerve twitch right above his brow. He sighed and controlled his temper. Talking was better then having an awkward silence between them.

"An analysis of _Romeo and Juliet._"

"Oh! _Romeo and Juliet. Oui, oui! Ce'st Très bien!_" Francis said in a jolly tone. Matthew found it a bit amusing how Francis said _Romeo and Juliet. _He did however also noticed the French he used. He knew a little of it but wasn't some kind of expert. "It's really good! I wished we had those kind of assignment. Your teacher must be the best! I bet you'll do great."

"Ah...Well..." Matthew felt a kick hit him right in the stomach. _I bet you'll do great. H_e felt pressure on him hearing that statement. Mainly because he had to do the assignment because he wasn't great at psychology, and because he was afraid that he actually wouldn't make it.

"Something wrong?" Francis leaned forward and met Matthew's eyes that had been stuck to the ground. The boy was a little startled and stopped for a second. For some strange reason, he actually wanted to tell Francis about what brought him down. Matthew looked up at the blonde man. Well, there isn't any harm in letting him know.

"I-It's actually an assignment that was given to because I didn't do so great at the last one..."

"Oh, how did it go?" Surprisingly, it actually sounded like the French cared, so Matthew continued.

"Well, I failed. I apparently lack_ human emotion_."

"Oh, That's not true Matthew." Francis said and bumped into him a little.

"Well I didn't make it." Matthew said bitterly and continued to look at his feet.

"So...Do you want some help?" Matthew looked up at Francis with a cold yet surprised stare. The man smiled like the idiot he was. _Help?_ Why would Matthew want help? It's his own goddamn fault for not knowing how to write the way the teacher wanted him to.

"W-What? You know what? No. What do you know about emotions anyways? If you haven't noticed, I don't like being around you because _you_ cause _me_ trouble!"

"_Oui_, that may be true, but I'm older than you. More experienced." The man said calmly. Matthew then noticed that Francis actually looked older with his strong stubble jaw and calm deep blue eyes. His posture was also very different, he walked like he owned the street beneath him. It was kind of appealing.

"That doesn't m-mean..." Matthew went silent. Francis was right, but he still didn't want any help. He could manage his problems himself. Why would he jump in and stir in his life. Matthew felt himself fume. A small feeling in him grew, and it wasn't pleasant. Why did the Frenchman bug him so? He sighed frustrated and stopped.

"Okay. This is fine. I can walk the rest myself."

"Oh?" Francis coat continued to flow as he stopped and looked around. It was a few blocks from Matthew's home. The boy didn't want some stranger-creep to know where he lived. "You sure you'll do fine by yourself?"

"Yea, this aria is pretty safe."

"Alright then." Francis rolled his R and gave Matthew a warm smile. He reached out and patted the boy on the back before backing a few steps saying: "Till next time." The Frenchman then spun around and strutted along the street. Matthew stood for a few seconds and just watch him disappear into the crowd. The wind caressed Matthew's blonde hair and woke him from his staring. What was he doing?

He shrugged the warm feeling he had in his chest and continued walking home alone.

_Non: No_

_Moi: Me_

_Oui: Yes_

_Imbécile: Idiot_

_Derrière: Behind_

_Putain: Whore_

_Merde: Damn it_

_Ce'st Très bien: It's really good_


	9. Chapter 9

**Forever Yours**

_By: Ezio Bonnefoy_

"Alfred no! Cut it out!"

"Oh, so you're going to deny it forever?"

"I _don't_ like her. Period!"

"Boys!" Arthur lowered his paper and looked through his reading glasses at his two sons. An imitate apology from the boys followed. Matthew stood leaned against the door frame and stared bitterly at his brother. Why did he tease him so? If it was a way of showing love, Matthew could easily say that he could live without it. The boy sighed loudly to show his dissatisfaction. In return he got sour face and an exposed tongue from his brother. Arthur gave the American a killer look before he started to read again. Alfred was sitting deep in the couch next to him in his big hoodie that said: AMERICA in capital letters. His hair was messy and he wore two different pair of socks on his feet, just like usual. This was a great contrast to Matthew who wore a white shirt and a pair of nicely ironed beige trousers. The two boys kept making faces at one another before Arthur broke the silence.

"By the way, Matthew." He cleared his throat and evened out the paper. "How is the assignment going?"

"Ah...It's going forward." Matthew said nervously and gave him an awkward smile. He didn't want to lie to Arthur. Truth be told, the assignment went like shit. It was hopeless. Matthew didn't have any hope left. He'd accepted the sad fact that he might fail. But why didn't he understand? The boy felt more stupid every time he read the stupid play. He got more questions then answers when he thought about it. This wasn't good. Anxiety started to get a grip of Matthew's chest as he thought of the deadline that was catching up.

"Ah...Good." Arthur said in his British accent and hid his face in the newspaper that he held. Matthew knew that he didn't want to ask too much. Every time he did the boy tended to close himself in even more, Arthur understood that now. Despite them having _the talk, _things where still extremely awkward between them. Matthew had only told him a part of his problems at the hospital. Arthur probably knew that. He was a policeman after all, a part of his job is to know when people are and when they aren't telling the truth. But now, he wasn't as hostel and demanding as before. He asked more nicely. Matthew found that weird, but also more comfortable.

"So...you sure you don't like her?" Alfred said with a smirk and shifted in his seat.

"Alfred for the last time_ NO_!" Matthew said in his weak and embarrassed voice.

"Okay, okay!" Alfred held his hands up and left his seat in the sofa.

"Is that about the girl in school?" Alfred asked and took a sip of his tea.

"Yes. But please don't..." Matthew drug his hand over his red face in frustration, his brother laughing loudly. God, Alfred could be a pain in the ass. And that thing Maria did yesterday. Matthew remembered her being so close to him. _Too close_. He heard the laughs and giggles in his mind and lowered his head, letting his bangs hide him for a moment. Why did she do that? Did she want to embarrass him? And why in the hell did Alfred tell her about him being in the hospital?

"Matthew, is that a cut on your hand?" Alfred grabbed his wrist as he passed him, almost shocking Matthew with his touch.

"O-Oh, I hadn't noticed." He flung his hand close to his body again. Matthew didn't like human contact, Alfred was okay but it was so sudden. He examined his hand. I was more of a carpet burn than a cut. He must have gotten it during the fight with Billy at some point. As fresh memories of the incident flashed in front of him, Matthew felt a cold sweat coming and his heart starting to race. Billy's harsh voice slammed against his ear drums as he remembered himself being slammed into the concrete wall.

"Where did you get that?" Arthur asked and took of his glasses to see better. Matthew's heart skipped a beat. He still stared at the wound paralyzed. Lifting his eyes of his hand, he told himself to be cool. Alfred and Arthur didn't know anything so it was fine.

"I d-don't know..." Matthew tilted his eyes to his feet and then to Arthur who looked very skeptical. "Well..I..." His sight blurred for a second. _Oh no_, was it tears? His eyes didn't burn, then why couldn't he focus? The beating in his chest got harder as his knees started to tremble.

"Matthew. Are you alright?" Arthur said and rose from his seat.

"I-I'm fine..." Matthew covered his mouth. He told himself to calm down. It was just a memory. There was no danger now. A deep breath later, Arthur was already by his side and took him by the shoulder.

"Sit down."

"N-No..I-" Matthew tried to walk away with is shaking legs, the incident haunting his mind.

"_Sit down. _I'll get you some tea, alright?" Matthew finally nodded unwillingly and sat down in the sofa. He curled up and knotted his hands together. Billy had scared him alright. He was more frightening than Arthur at this point. The Brit came back with a cup of steaming tea and a sandwich on a plate.

"T-Thank you...But-" Matthew took the tea and Arthur placed the food on the coffee table.

"I know Matthew. I know." He said calmly and sat down next to him in the sofa and leaned back. "Could you just..." Arthur clenched his jaw and looked away for a second. "I know you don't want to, but could you just eat it? You looked like you where going to pass out again and I really don't..." Arthur let out a sigh as he focused in front of him with his mossy gaze. Matthew's eyes widened a bit as Arthur swallowed his pride and sunk in status.

"Okay." Matthew understood. He didn't have to say anything else. Arthur looked at Matthew with worried eyes and asked, as nicely as he could.

"Did something happen today?" Matthew's eyes met his and a silence passed. Arthur was really trying. His gaze was pleading, desperately. Sighing and looking away, Matthew thought of the incident. He could not tell him it was Billy. He just couldn't. Arthur would freak out and therefore loose his job as an officer at the NYPD. Billy's father was after all short tempered just like him, if Arthur would bring up what Matthew had experienced he'd surely take his son side and fire the Brit.

"Y-Yea...A scary thing happened..." Matthew said finally with cracked voice and took a sip of his tea. "I-I was almost mugged..." A strong feeling of guilt wrapped around Matthew's chest as he let the lie slip out of his mouth. _Crap. _He was the worst liar ever. Ashamed, he sat next to Arthur who tried so badly to reach out to him.

"_Almost?_" Arthur leaned closer to Matthew. He was getting sharp again. Probably because he wanted to catch the so called non exciting _criminals_ himself.

"Y-Yes...They didn't take anything though..."

"_They?_" Alright, he was mad now. His voice was growling._ Shit_. He was going to find out. Why did Matthew say they? Why? The boy curled up even more and held his cup close to his chest. Matthew waited for Arthur to start bombing him with questions, but as it turned out he just leaned back and sighed again.

"Um..." Matthew felt like he should say something but was surprised by Arthur's reaction.

"Sorry." _Sorry? _Why did he apologize? Matthew should be the one to do that since he was keeping the truth from him. "Did they hurt you?" Staring at Arthur, Matthew was still baffled. Why was he this calm? He normally would have interrogated him, ask him for details, drag the truth out of the boy, but, he wasn't doing any of it. Why was he holding back? "Did they?" Arthur awoke Matthew from his thoughts.

"N-No...They didn't." The boy stared down in his tea. What was Arthur doing? It's something odd with him. Did he know about Billy already? Did he know about the attack? Matthew felt his chest sink. _Did he know that he lied?_

"But, what happened? You said there were more than one. Did you fight them off? You used the tazer didn't you?" Arthur smiled in the corner of his mouth.

"What? No, no." Matthew breathed out. _Thank god,_ he didn't know.

"Then how?" Arthur held his hands out.

"Yea bro. _How?_" Alfred came out of the kitchen with an apron around his waist. Turns out he was listening too. Matthew thought for a second before speaking.

"Well, I was...kind of saved."

"By who?" Arthur curled his bushy brows.

"Superman?" Alfred stood in a heroic pose with a whisk in his right hand.

"You really believe that Alfred?" Arthur turned to him with a skeptical face.

"Yea! Or _Spiderman!_" He did another ridicules pose.

"Alfred..." Arthur just laughed at Matthew's brother. His laugh was old and light. Matthew hadn't heard it for a while, so he chuckled a little himself before Alfred joined in. They laughed together.

This was nice. _Really nice_.

Matthew enjoyed their happy faces. Maybe this family wasn't so bad after all?

"Okay, but seriously. What happened bro? Was it a superhero?"

"Yes tell us. I'm really curios." Arthur still had a smile on his lips and his green eyes almost glowed.

"W-Well...You know that Frenchman I told you about?"

"_No way!_" Alfred almost shouted out of surprise.

"You sure?" Arthur laughed again when Matthew nodded.

"Is he stalking you or something?" Alfred raised one of his brows.

"I was thinking that too." Matthew finally dared to take a bite of his sandwich. It wasn't good but at least Arthur hadn't put Marmite on it.

"Well what did he do?" Arthur looked pleased as Matthew lowered the food to the plate again.

"I told you. He saved me. Apparently he saw them trying to-" Matthew cleared his throat before he let the words _beat up _slipped out of his mouth. "Steal my money and he came there and brought them down."

"Wow!" Alfred sounded impressed by Matthew's story.

"That's quite brave." Arthur said and and crossed his arms.

"Yea, but I think he actually stalks me! _For real._ I got really mad and scolded him."

"I think you have a guardian angel Matthew. You should have thanked him instead." Arthur drew his lips in that warm smile that Matthew had come to love. He thought for a second. Matthew hadn't actually thanked Francis. Now he felt rude. The boy was saved, Francis had been hurt and he didn't even give him a: _Thank you_.

"You and you're mythical creatures man!" Alfred gave Arthur a silly face and widened his eyes. "By the way, we're out of milk guys."

"Why would you need milk? You never drink milk." Matthew looked a bit skeptical at Alfred.

"We're making pancakes tonight. Or, well Alfred is, I can't." Arthur said and rose from his seat. "I'll go buy some-"

"No, I'll do it!" Matthew said in a cheer and left his seat. "It's faster to take the scooter." Arthur looked a little displeased but sensed the boy's joy.

"Alright. But be quick about it." He said and nodded towards the garage.

"I will!" Matthew rushed to the hall. _Yes! Pancakes!_

-x-

The sun was setting already. A red shifting palette sky stretched out above Francis as he strutted along the almost empty sidewalk. Felling his wrists, he frowned his face and sighed. He didn't understand why that damn freak had to use handcuffs. It wasn't like he'd go anywhere or try to flee during the _service_ he was giving him. Francis felt a little guilty for working despite Gilbert's orders, but he needed money. And this guy paid well. Feeling the pay in his pocket Francis counted the bills with his thumb once more. 300 dollars. Even thought he got the double amount of cash he usually got, the French barely think it was worth it. His body was sore and hurt. That damn_ Mr. Smith. _He knew how badly Francis needed the pay. And in exchange for that huge amount of salary, he demanded he'd do all sorts of sickening things. Most of them more painful than weird.

A sharp pain hit Francis in his side. Clenching his jaw, he leaned against the building next to his and held the hurt rib. _Merde. _Why did that freak have to hurt someone else to gain pleasure? Francis straightened his back again and continued walking. Not only the bruises from him hurt, but also the wounds he'd gotten from Billy just a few hours before. He kept feeling the taste of iron in his mouth and his lip still stung. Francis smiled and laughed lightly. The combination of his lip wound and his red knuckles probably added up to_ Mr. Smith's_ experience. Even though he was bitter, he couldn't help but to feel good that he saved Matthew. Well, the boy didn't seem that way, but he probably was thankful.

Francis felt his side again. Maybe he should let someone take a look at that rib. It didn't hurt as much now, but when he got hit by Billy it burned. And that dirty _costumer_ had to make it worse by almost cracking it. Francis shook it of. He shouldn't be thinking that way. It would bring him down. Instead he thought about why he actually got hurt. It was to save Matthew. He smiled for himself as he passed people on the sidewalk.

_Matthew. _

Francis couldn't let that gorgeous boy get hurt. That skin was too fair. The French laughed at himself. He really thought that boy was beautiful. He could barely keep his eyes of him. Not only his skin, but his eyes and his hair. It was truly candy for Francis gaze. He knew he couldn't, but wanted to carefully touch it. He wanted to touch Matthew's alluring beauty.

His smile faded. Matthew had however been very rude to him. Francis remembered how big his eyes where the first time he saw him on that dark and eery street. Maybe he was afraid of him and therefore pushed him away? Was it because of how he dressed? The French locked at his ultramarine old English-styled coat and his worn out dress shoes and gloves. Did he really look frightening? He shook his head lightly and put his hands in his coat pockets. He would never know for sure.

He looked at his feet for a second and started to wonder what Matthew must have experienced to make him so on edge. He seemed like a nice young man but when he opened his mouth his words cut just like Natalia's did. But still, he wasn't as tough as she was. Not in mind and nor in body. Francis saw his frightened face in front of him. When he stood in that ally next to Billy, it must have been truly terrifying for him. Francis had only seen that kind of expression once or twice before. On those occasions it had been out fear of someones life. Was Matthew afraid that he was going to die? _Non_, that could not be it. Sure, Billy was mad, but he wouldn't kill the boy, now would he? What could Matthew had done to make him that upset? This must have been because of the French. He did humiliate him in front of his friends and he did know his real name now. Maybe he felt threatened.

Then it hit Francis. The Girls. Laura and Jessica. They didn't know about each other. He was afraid that Matthew would tell him about Laura and that he would tell him about Jessica. Well, they did, but by chance. They didn't know each other. Billy must have belied that they did. So he attacked Matthew to keep him silent. Wow, Billy was an asshole. He would have beaten Matthew up _really bad_ if Francis hadn't arrived. The ache in his side did have a purpose after all. Francis action wasn't pointless. It was only sad that Matthew had to get in trouble because Francis wanted to be nice to him, and embarrass Billy at the same time.

Just as he started to lean back he heard an engine slowing down and someone shout behind him.

"Hey!"Francis blood went cold and his body tensed. Could this be _them_? Memories flashed and the possible dangerous suspects lined up in his mind. Had _they_ found him? Francis pulse skipped a beat and he felt his whole body cry out of fear.

He continued walking as if he didn't hear anything. "**Hey**!" With heart rapidly beating and pain in his side, Francis told himself too keep calm. He was _not_ Francis Bonnefoy, he did _not_ have 300 dollars in his left coat pocket and he was _not_ followed by anyone. Especially _not them_. As he was about to turn around the corner a red scooter stopped at the street in front of him._ Shit._ On the vehicle was a man in a big winter jacket. Francis did not see his face as it was covered by a red scarf and a pair of pilot goggles. The French stopped dead in his tracks and smiled nervously at the man in front of him. Who could this be? He did not recognize him. Should he run for it?

"I need to speak to you." When he heard the sweet and soft voice Francis finally recognized him. Matthew took his helmet off and put the goggles on his head.

"Oh, _bonsoir _Matthew." Francis let out a sigh of relief and walked closer to the boy as he pushed the scarf down and reveled his face completely.

"Yea, hi." Matthew smiled nervously and scratched the back of his head.

"So?" Francis smiled back and crossed his arms.

"_S-So?_" Matthew blinked a few times as he'd forgotten where he was.

"You wanted to speak to _moi, non_?"

"Ah, y-yes!" The boy brushed his fair bangs back from his shimmering eyes. "I...Um..." Francis smirked when he noticed his face getting redder by the second. "I wanted t-to thank you. Because of what happened earlier today..."

"Oh, _really?_" Francis rolled his R in excitement.

"Y-Yea..."

"You didn't seem that thankful..." The French said and looked away a bit bitter.

"Yes, I know I'm sorry-"

"Apology not accepted."

"What?" Matthew's eyes widened in confusion, just like Francis wanted them to. "B-But..."

"Oh, so I save your life, then you burst out on me acting all ungrateful, I even offered to help you with your school project and you denied me. And then you come to me with a: _sorry? _You think everything is fine?" The French spat in his dialect. Matthew looked like he was panicking now.

"Ah...I-"

"I was hurt you know?!" Francis pointed at his lip with a dramatic face. "And you hurt me with your words after that too, _how cruel_..." The French looked away with a face of dread and waited for Matthew's reaction, and it was _good_. Maybe Francis was a bit too dramatic, but he got what he wanted.

"Um...I'm truly sorry. I am! Ah..." Matthew thought hard and held his hands in front of him, almost as if he would catch the idea with them. "How can I make it up to you? I'll do anything!"

"Oh?" _Jackpot. _Francis swallowed his fake tears and smirked towards Matthew. "I want you to buy me coffee at that Swedish cafe tomorrow at 5pm. And bring the _Romeo and Juliet_ project."

"Uh..." Matthew sat on his scooter baffled with his jaw dropped.

"You got it?"

"Y-Yea, but-"

"_Bien mon amie!_ I'll see you there tomorrow!" Francis turned his heel and started walking again.

"W-Wait!"

"You said _anything_!" Francis waved him goodbye with his back still facing the boy. His heart still beat hard in his chest, but now for another reason. He wanted to skip on the sidewalk but told himself not to since Matthew's eyes was still on him.

"What if I can't come?" Matthew finally shouted at him before Francis was about to leave his sight. He turned to him and smiled.

"Then I'll never forgive you!" Matthew frowned his face by that statement before he drug his goggles down to hide his red face.

This was good. Now Francis got Matthew just where he wanted him, _on a date_.

_Merde: Damn it_

_Bonsoir: Good evening_

_Moi: Me_

_Non: No_

_Bien mon amie: Good my friend_


	10. Chapter 10

**Forever Yours**

_By: Ezio Bonnefoy_

The frosty air caressed Matthew's exposed neck as the hood on his jacket left his head. The few degrees that kept the streets unfrozen had faded during the night. This did not however, keep the people of new York from moving. Taxis where honking, crowds where stirring, and the wind blowing. Everyone was busy, having their mind occupied by their daily lives and trying to get from point A to point B. But, there was one soul who wished that he would not arrive at his destination.

Outside a Swedish cafe stood a young boy, annoyed, hesitant and nervous. He stood there asking and taunting himself.

_What am I doing? This is stupid! Just go inside! No, what if he isn't there? Crap! _

Matthew _knew_ he was way too agitated about this meeting, but he couldn't help himself. He was tricked there. What was the French planning exactly? Matthew stared at the small cafe over the street from the protection and coverage of the crowd. He didn't see anyone in there, well he didn't see _anything_ in there. The windows where dark and filled with treats and pastries, blocking Matthew's sight inside the cafe.

What if Francis was playing with him? Luring him there to be met with that bloodcurdling Swedish cafe owner? He was extremely stiff and scary in Matthew's opinion. Arthur, Alfred and himself had been there once when they where younger. Both the brothers had thought the Swede was frightening with his stiff expression and low toned voice.

Matthew undressed his arm and watched how the clock on his wrist ticked. One minute left till 5 pm. The boy did not understand why it was so hard just to go there. It was _just_ a cafe. And even if Francis didn't show up, he could do some studying. Adjusting his bag strap, Matthew felt the weight of the endless notes and books that he had for his assignment. He felt his face blush a bit before he cursed himself for actually taking them with him. Finally, he sighed and moved with an uneasiness towards the cafe.

_Berewald's and Tino's Fika _read the old sigh which was covered in frost. Matthew took a deep breath and told himself to be cool._ Cool as the Canadian snow_. Time to take on the bad boy mask. He was just meeting the guy he thought was a possible-murderer-rapist-serial-killer-gang member-thief a few days ago. But, right now he was more of a stalker.

Then why did Matthew go to _him? Gah! _The boy shook the thought off. This was their final meeting, and that would be it. The boy grasped around the door handle and pushed it in.

A warm breeze embraced Matthew as he entered the small cafe. Along it, a smell of newly baked bread, sugar and coffee filled his nostrils. The cafe was small, but the space well used. It remained it's cozy feeling without getting too cramped. Matthew's gaze ignored the interior and searched for the blonde head he had come to meet. The boy was very uncomfortable with moving in the small space. He felt so tall amongst the people sitting, and besides he met some of their eyes as he scanned the tables. His stomach turned as he did not see Francis._ Where could he be? Was he even here?_ Matthew blamed himself. _Of course he wasn't there_. Shame filled him and he tilted his head down. He knew the French wasn't going to be here. He was like everyone else, after all. Just tricking Matthew and trying to make a fool out of him. Anger bubbled in the boy as he passed yet another table.

_Damn Francis. Curse him. **Curse it all!**_

"You're looking for someone?" Matthew almost jolted back when the taller man approached him. It was the cafe owner, Berewald. He wore a white shirt along with an apron stained with flour and cocoa.

"Um..." The Swede looked deadly serious in his manner.

"You're Matthew,_ ja_?" He said in a low tone.

"Y-Yes, sir." Matthew straightened his back and faced the owner with respect. He was too scared to do anything else.

"Ah..." Berewald nodded and looked to his right and pointed with his long arm. "Your date is over there." Matthew was a bit dazzled by his words but followed the direction of the arm till he saw a man sitting by one of the window seats farther inside the cafe. There he was. The French sat with a newspaper in his hands, just like Arthur usually did, legs crossed and back straight.

"Ah, he...he is not my-" Matthew met the sharp blue eyes of the owner again and went silent.

"What?" Berewald said flatly.

"No, nothing! Thank you!" Matthew quickly moved through the cafe to avoid the deadly aura around the tall man. As he approached the table by the window, he regretted the rush and actually wanted to go back to the scary man, at least that was something he knew how ta manage. His heart jumped as Francis shifted his eyes up upon Matthew.

"Oh, _bonjour_ Matthew!" Francis smiled a warmly and widely, creating wrinkles on his lower cheeks.

"Ah...Hi!" Matthew stood frozen next to the table. _Oh my god, _this was awkward. What was he suppose to do?

"Please take a seat." Francis said and folded his paper and nodded to the sofa in front of him. Matthew sighed a bit frustrated, and of coarse embarrassed, before putting his bag underneath the table and sat down.

"_Did you say we where on a date!?_" Matthew whispered with a hiss voice.

"Oh, did Berewald say that?" Francis chuckled.

"_Did you?_" The boy frowned his face and leaned back with his arms crossed. Francis just smiled and leaned his chin against his left hand.

"_Non. _Of course not."

"We're two guys, why did-" Matthew was interrupted by his apparent _date_.

"Oh, it's normal to him. He is gay." Matthew raised an eyebrow.

"What? He_ is?_" The boy asked a bit curiously. The French nodded.

"_Oui_. He probably just assumed-"

"That_ I _was gay?"

"No, no." Francis chuckled once more. "You can't know if someone is homosexual by looking at them, Matthew."

"Then why'd-" Matthew looked at Francis once more. "Are _you_ gay?" The French burst out in laughter.

"_Non_, Matthew. I'm not gay calm down." His laugh died into small giggles.

"What's so funny?" Matthew said with a frowned face. This only resulted in Francis giggling becoming louder.

"You looked like you were scared for a second." Matthew felt his face flush a bit. "Take of your jacket. You're making _me_ sweat." The French said and pointed at Matthew who was still covered in wind protective clothing.

"Oh..." Matthew said with wide eyes and realized the temperature of his body. Francis smiled at him yet again. That wide smile. Matthew hated it. It mocked him. Why was he smiling like that? Just as Matthew had gotten his jacket off, Berewald approached there table with two cups of coffee and two cinnamon buns on a plate.

"Here." His low voice rumbled as he placed the cups and plate down.

"Oh, thank you. Did you...?" Matthew met Francis eyes. The French shook his head.

"It's on the house." The Swede said with a serous face before leaving them.

"Why?" Matthew looked at the plate, then at Francis, and then at Berewald who was serving other costumes a few tables away. Francis shrugged his shoulders and took one of the cups. "Why did he-"

"He's a nice man, Matthew." Francis still pronounced his name like _Mattheu_.

"Really? He looks scary." The French sipped his coffee and exhaled with a joy in his tone.

"He is not scary once you get to know him. Berewald just...don't really know how to express himself." Said Francis in his French accent with a kind smile on his lips. He cleared his throat and placed the cup down. "Anyways, how has your day been?"

"Oh, um..." Matthew was a bit surprised by the otherwise normal question. It had been a while since someone asked him that. "It was..." Reprices of Billy mocking him throughout the day played up in his mind. Matthew swallowed and placed the coffee cup to his lips."It was fine."

"Oh?" Francis said and knitted his hands together and leaned his stubble jaw upon them. "You don't have to lie to me. If your day was shit then just say it was." Matthew choked on his drink and stared at the Frenchman.

"I wasn't lying-" Francis interrupted him and adjusted in his seat.

"Yes you where." Matthew looked strangely at the man's calm expression. "I can tell, you know?"

"What do you mean _you can tell? _You don't know me." Francis chuckled and looked away for a second before his deep blue eyes looked into Matthew's.

"_Oui,_ I do know you. Besides..." The French grabbed his coffee. "...you don't have to be a genius to figure that out. People work the same way, _non_?" Matthew just stared into the two eyeballs in front of him. What was he doing? Not even Arthur had dared to question him in that way. And this man could tell he was lying _that_ easy?

"_All people _don't work the same way!" Matthew finally said as a comeback and to break the awkward silence.

"Ah, well. Maybe you're right. Anyways, why don't you tell me what happened that made your day shit?"

"I never said it was shit." Matthew said and looked down in his cup.

"Then how was it?" The French spoke in a soft tone, yet his voice rumbled a bit.

"It was..." Matthew thought hard. He sighed. Should he really tell him the truth?

"_It was?_" Francis repeated, almost in a teasing manner.

"Okay, fine! It was shit!" Matthew said frustrated in his weak voice.

"_Bon!_ Now that wasn't so hard, was it?" Francis tapped Matthew on the shoulder and smiled widely. This startled the boy a bit. Human contact did not please him, more of the opposite actually. And then Francis' smile. Matthew couldn't get over it. Why did he smile so much?

"Why do you care anyway?" The boy said as bitterly as the Swedish coffee tasted. He looked away and heard the French laugh yet again. _What was so damn funny?_

"Oh, Matthew. That's like asking me why I live." He said and took a bite of a cinnamon bun.

"What do you mean by that?" Francis chewed the bun and swallowed it down with some coffee before responding.

"Matthew..." He leaned a bit over the table and looked him straight in the eye. "Why do_ you_ live?" The boy frowned his face and adjusted his glasses.

"I-I don't know. I just do."

"Precisely. Now..." The French leaned back in the sofa and crossed his arms. Only now did Matthew notice their firmness. "What happened today?"

"_Gosh!_" The boy leaned back as well. That damn idiot still persuaded him to talk! Matthew did not want to tell him anything. _For god sakes_ he was _just_ a stranger!

"Was it...what's his name... Billy?"

"What about him?" The young Canadian spat.

"Well...did he do anything to you?" Francis looked a bit serious. Matthew was however determent to be as rude as he possibly could to this man.

"What if he was?" The boy said with a squinted look.

"Then I'd have another great reason to beat his ass." Francis responded and smirked. "Did he or did he not?" Matthew's blood flooded his veins as anger formed in his fists. He clenched them with all his might not to loose his cool. "Matthew?"

"Yes, he was-"

"Does he bully you?" Matthew was baffled of how he wasn't allowed to finish his sentence before Francis spoke again. The French raised his brows and held out his hands, waiting for the answer.

"Can we talk about something else?"

"_Non_." Francis said flatly.

"_What the hell?!_" Matthew covered his mouth. He was too frustrated to filter his thoughts before they slipped out of his mouth and became harsh words. The boy adjusted his seat and faced Francis when he'd breathed out some of his anger. "Why?" He said with a slight irritation in his tone.

"Look." Francis leaned forward and gesticulated with his hands. "You seem like a well-behaved and calm young man. But, this clearly upsets you."

"It does not!" Matthew's outburst made the whole cafe stare at the two men. When the boy finally noticed the attention he got he shrunk in status and sank further down in the sofa seat.

"Come on." Francis said and drug his blonde locks back.

"Why do you ask so much?" Matthew was still keen on not telling Francis more than necessary.

"Because I want to get to know you, Matthew."

"Then why don't you let me ask some questions?" The French sighed. He probably knew that Matthew avoided answering him.

"_D'accord_. Let's do it this way." Francis held out his fingers. "Ten questions. Ten answers. You ask me ten questions. I ask you ten. We answer truthfully. _Bien?_" Matthew looked a bit skeptical. He basically knew what Francis was going to ask. But he wanted to give the French a taste of his own medicine.

"Okay, I'll play your game. But _no cheating._" Matthew leaned forward and placed his arms on the table. "I'll start. Full name?"

"Francis Bonnefoy. No middle names. Is Billy bulling you?" Matthew eminently bit his lip. Francis did sure want to know. The boy sighed.

"Yes, though I don't like to admit it." He was quiet for a moment before he saw that Francis waited to be asked something. "Oh...Why did you move to America?" The French eyes widened a bit. He was quiet and looked almost frightened for a second.

_Yes! This was his weak spot!_

"I wanted to see the world."

"You're lying. Did you run away?" Francis looked almost baffled by what Matthew was saying. His confident character dropped for a moment before he had cleared his mind.

"I wasn't. I wanted to see the world." He did not look Matthew in the eye. Staring out at the busy street outside he said with sad eyes. "But, yes. I did run away." His gaze shifted to Matthew who tensed when he looked into it. He felt something move in his chest when the deep blue orbs focused on him. "My turn. This time _I _havetwo questions in a row." Matthew swallowed. Francis voice had become a bit harsh and he did not smile.

"Mhm." Matthew nodded.

"Does your father know about Billy bulling you?" Those words hit Matthew right in the stomach. He felt a sudden nausea creep up on him as Francis was still waiting for an answer.

"No." Matthew sighed and looked away. "No, he does not." The boy now realized what situation he was actually in. He let that asshole play with him and refused himself to tell anyone about it. The feeling that kept him from saying anything must have been shame. He felt it even now, and ashamed he was.

"Why?" Francis didn't hold back. Matthew sighed nervously and took of his glasses.

"I don't know." He massaged the bridge of his nose and breathed deeply to calm himself down. Billy's harsh words echoed in his mind making him fall into a cold sweat and trembling anxiety. He told himself just to focus on his breathing.

"Matthew." Francis placed his warm hand around the boy's wrist and removed his hand from his face. "You must have a reason." Matthew met the French gaze and felt his heart skip a beat. A warm feeling grew in him, melting the cold ice ball he had in his chest. Those eyes saw right through him. Matthew felt as if they saw him, not the faced that he had put up being fine all the time and acting cool, but actually him as he was. "Don't tell me you just let that _con_ push you down for no reason. I know you are better than that."

"I..." Matthew drug his hand back, making Francis let go of his strong grip. The boy put his glasses back on and hid behind his bangs. "If I-I do that...my dad might lose his job." Matthew said quietly and stared down at his coffee mug.

"Oh. I see..." Francis said and leaned back a bit, giving Matthew some space. The young Canadian felt his heart race. The place where Francis had put his hand was burning. Did he grasp him that tight? _No._ He'd been very careful. Matthew hadn't jolted back like when Alfred touched him.

"Sorry." Matthew apologized his awkwardness and looked up again only to see those blue eyes pinned on him.

"Do you want us to continue with the questions?" Francis said with care. He seemed concerned for Matthew. This was an odd feeling for the boy since he was use to the brutal protection of Arthur instead of this kindness.

"Yea, yea. Sure." Matthew adjusted his seat and took a sip of his coffee.

"_D'accord_. What does your father work with?"

"He is a police officer. What do you work with? I don't believe you're study like me." Matthew smiled half halfheartedly and met Francis gaze. Surprisingly, he was looking away again now.

"I...I don't work. I'm off duty at the moment." The French said finally and gave Matthew a smile.

"Why?" The boy asked curiously.

"I'm...Uh...I got hurt at work. So I'm taking some time off until I feel better."

"Oh...but-"

"_Non_, not so fast. My turn." Francis said with a smirk. "What is your family like?"

"Um..."Matthew gulped his coffee. "Well, we have Alfred, my brother. And Arthur, of course."

"Oh, I didn't know you had a brother."

"Well, we're not technically brothers. We're both adopted by Arthur."

"Brotherhood is not by blood Matthew. And, why don't you call Arthur _dad?_"

"Well, he isn't." Matthew said flatly and took another sip of his steaming beverage.

"But, didn't he raise you?" Francis dipped a piece of the bun in his coffee.

"Yea, but-"

"_It's not by blood, Matthew._" The French said in tunes as he leaned on his left hand and placed the piece of pastry in his mouth.

"Yea, yea I know. _Father by bond_."

"_And_ you still think he is not your father?" Matthew breathed in to say something but stopped himself. What was he suppose to answer? He bit his lip, tilted his head down and hid himself underneath his bangs like before.

"Um...I..." The boy frowned his face and sighed. "I don't know..." He looked up at Francis who was already focused on him. Those deep and soft eyes looked upon the boy. It almost moved him how worried he actually looked. They shifted down at the table as Francis apologized.

"I'm sorry. That was too much. I wont bring it up again, Matthew." His R's rolled more as his voice was more quite and deep. "I appreciate that your honest to me. I wont ask you anything more. But you are free to ask me if you want to, _alright?_" Francis didn't meet Matthew's eyes. _Was he ashamed?_Oh no. Matthew spoke in a hurry to show Francis that he was alright.

"Oh, n-no it's f-fine. I really-"

"_I wont._" Francis finally said as a conclusion. "I asked too much. Your turn Matthew." He said and turned his anxious face into a wide smile.

"Oh...ah.."A bit startled Matthew searched his mind for something to ask. "Do...Do you have any special talent?" Francis eyes widened. _Shit._ That was the weirdest and stupidest question ever. Matthew saw started to blush as the man in front of him making a weird face as he thought quietly. In cheer desperation, Matthew was just about to ask him something else when The French suddenly said.

"I can say _I love you _in thirty different languages."

"_Really?_" Matthew was actually quite impressed by this.

"_Oui._ I'm not so good with language but-"

"Come on!" Matthew lent forward on the table. "Say it! I want to hear!" Francis smiled a bit satisfied.

"_D'accord._" And the Frenchman opened his mouth and started to patter. His French accent smeared every word he said and made every sentence seem like his native tongue. After each _I love you_ he noted in which language it was spoken. Francis leaned back and kept count with his fingers as he looked up in the roof and searched his mind for the information he needed.

In that moment, Matthew just watched him work. He studied how his throat moved while he spoke, how his eyes seemed to focus and in the same time not, how he moved his hand as he stroke back his wavy blonde locks. Then he noticed something. It looked like Francis had a bruise, just on the side of his neck.

"Francis?"

"Hmm?" The French stopped his counting at 28 and looked at Matthew's frowned face.

"What's that on your neck?" Francis almost flung his hand onto the spot where Matthew's eyes where pinned on.

"Oh...Um..." Matthew leaded closer and Francis backed a bit, still covering the mark.

"It looks like a bruise."

"_Oui!_ It's a...bruise." The French said with wide eyes and nodded. Matthew leaned back in the sofa and raised an eyebrow. The man in front of him suddenly seemed nervous. Matthew didn't have the time to ask himself why before Francis spoke again in a bit of a stressed tone. "Anyways, I was saying..."

"Ah, yes."

"I love you, in English. And finally, this is my favorite, _je t'aime, _French."

"Wow. You just learned all of those because you wanted to?"

"_Oui. _Love is something I really like, so why not be able to express it all over the world?" His lips drew yet another warm smile, moving his stubble and making his face wrinkle a bit.

"Um...That's quite.."Matthew searched for the right word in his mind.

"Weird, I know." Francis said a bit shyly before the boy could finish.

"No, no! I think it's a wonderful ability!" Matthew said and placed his hand on the table.

"_Really?_"

"Yea. It's really...nice." Matthew smiled at the Frenchman, which in turn made him smile back.

"By the way, thinking of love..." Francis played with his fingers before holding his palms out. "Do you have your project with you?" Matthew's eyes widened a bit as his face flushed.

"Yes. Yes I do." The boy dove down under the table where he had put his bag to hide the fact that he was blushing.

_Ja: Yes_

_Bonjour: Goodday_

_Non: No_

_Oui: Yes_

_Bon: Good_

_D'accord:Okay_

_Bien: Good_

_Con: Cunt_

_Je t'aime: I love you_


End file.
